In a field of daisies, bathed in a perfume
of wild roses, clover and ocean brine,
you and me in the early afternoon
drinking Kool Aid, pretending its wine,
and sharing left over crumbs with a few tiny ants,
that scurry across a thread barren cloth
that has spent years in a trunk with a moth,
While we eat a meal fit for a King and Queen-
Periwinkles, Dulse and canned Sardines-
treasures from the Great Atlantic Sea,
while the rolling waves break on the rocks below
this field where so many daisies grow
He loves me, he loves me not, my daisy flies away,
And only Jimmy and the wind will ever know.
Written: June 9th, 2014
This was my first picnic with my first love - We were 6 or 7 years old at the time.
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.
When I was a young boy,
I built a castle on the beach.
I made it from sand with my shovel-toy,
Then the waves grabbed it in their reach.
They tore my castle down,
And dragged it down into the sea.
So i took my shovel and, with a frown,
Built another castle quickly.
I built it bigger and stronger
Than the ones in the past.
I thought this one would last longer,
But its walls would no longer last.
I built a moat around the last one that day,
But the waves seemed desperate to wash them all away.
Mother’s Love (Sonnet)
Love begins at the time of conception
When a mother’s dear child grows in her womb.
Her life is changed to thoughts of protection.
Excitement of wonder and gender bloom.
This new little life will bring heightened joy.
A new baby is what dreams are made of.
It matters not if it’s a girl or boy,
Birth will bring happiness and so much love.
Teaching a sweet child as he or she grows
Is a most important tool used each day.
To teach how compassion and kindness flows,
As they emulate and do things our way.
A mother’s love, with every endeavor,
Is a gift to her children forever.
© 2014 Connie Marcum Wong
Happy Mother’s Day to every Mother and Step-Mother and Grand Mother and
G. Grand Mother. Happy Belated Mother's Day to those of you in countries
where you have already celebrated Mother's Day.
The one room school house always was too full.
The windows oversized and chill on winter days.
You sat behind me, I thought you were real cool,
one day you passed a note to me to say...
I Love YOU, you wrote in colored pencil.
I kissed the yellow paper on that line,
then took out a red pen and I stenciled
a perfect heart, PLEASE Be My Valentine.
He blushed from ear to ear and, he scribbled more
a crumpled paper said, "Please meet me in the park...
on the bench, by the fence,".. too cute to ignore.
The bell rang, out we went into the dark to spark.
That day so long ago, now we're old and gray
I often think of that kiss, as near me, my man lays.
Soft night has come my little child, so rest
Come lay your head upon your mother’s breast
Oh close your eyes and listen as she sings
And soon you’ll hear the sound of angel wings
Come drift away into the land of dreams
Where fairies dance and smile while sunlight gleams
Oh come and float among the clouds of white
No harm can stir within this world of light
Come laugh and play with fluffy cotton sheep
You’ll clap and sing and they will run and leap
Then come return into your warm, soft bed
Let evening kiss you softly on your head
Oh sleep until the night at last is done
Oh sleep and dream my precious little one
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
G irls giggle and tell secrets. That’s okay!
R ambunctious boys can cause my head to ache.
A ngelic girls are easier to take.
N ight comes. They kneel beside their bed to pray.
D ear little dolls, they go to sleep straightway,
D ress up like princesses when they awake,
A nd nicely play. No trouble do they make.
U nsullied darling little nymphs are they!
G lad news for Grandma having girls again;
H ow nice I need not deal with all the woes!
T wo sisters, Lydia and Natalyn,
E arn hugs and kisses just for being kin.
R eflections of my dreams, and on life goes. . . .
S weet granddaughters let love and laughter in!
An Acrostic Italian Sonnet for
Contest by dakarai cobb:
The Sonnet Man's Acrostic Challenge
Children learn by the games they play
the games you teach them to control
They watch your eyes, they watch your smile
your opinions take a heavy toll.
Do you teach them to run and jump high
or lead them into a darkened room.
Do you give them guns and sword play
or send them outside to grow and bloom.
Have you explained the hurt, and the pain
which comes from the letting of blood
or glorified taking of sides
and bleeding victims crushed in the mud.
Two dimensional deeds plant red seeds
in the fertile fields of growing minds.
*title credit to Crosbey Stills and Nash
Which love is not a struggle to the mind?
'tis easier to think love glides along,
regardless of a road not there to find,
or never caring what is right or wrong.
One love, of child, a father's steady hand,
protecting innocence, through many years
as if he knew the way, and had it planned,
to heal each mortal wound as it appears.
As if all things begin with his okay,
the good, the joy of life to build upon;
demanding right, and hoping in some way
he's always with you, even when he's gone.
The banged up knee, your losing of a friend,
are yours to feel, but his to comprehend.
© RON WILSON AKA VEE BDOSA