I found a single feather on the ground.
I did wonder if it would make a sound.
So I tickled in across my daughters nose,
and what do you know a fun sound had arose.
The laughter brought from this brown little feather,
was better than all the toys I would get her.
Now when we walk we look down at the ground,
To see what other treasures can be found.
She had found a unique palm sized heart shaped stone.
A toad we had followed but left it alone.
The wildflowers in the woods we examined each
Oh it gives me chance to witness beauty and teach.
An adventure everyday we discover
What it means to be a nature lover.
For Contest: encore
a positive poem
(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
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
The black water reflects the still morning
While monarchs flutter in the rising sun
Purple skies grow lighter without warning
Seperate rain, as rainbow colors run
Could I have seen a more beautiful sky?
Silently approaching your silhouette
My eyes well slowly in their joyous sigh
You sit alone, playing your clarinet
There's no vision or reflecting water
That warms my heart as this picture of you
A quivering heart for you, my granddaughter
As you practice in tune with a sky so blue
I am a witness to your gentleness
I feel the music your soul can express
I’d write a rhyme to prove my depth of love
Or sing angelic song like those above
If gifts like these would prove love’s testament
I’d give and give to prove deep sentiment
But what to you, my Father, can I give?
The one who taught me how to love and live
What can I give you from this daughter’s heart?
But vow that from your side I’ll never part
You mean the world to me, this you must know
With passing years my love for you does grow
Your care for me is what helps see me through
There is no other father sweet like you
May Jesus grant you health and happiness
This birthday wish I wrap in tenderness
Eileen Manassian Ghali
My daddy dearest turns 78 today...78! Where did all the years go??? My father is a pastor, an educator, and writer, but most of all, he is the best father in all the world. Yes, my My father has always been a very central figure in my life. I couldn't have hoped for a better dad. We've been close through the years, and I know that he is always there to catch me when I fall. Isn't that, after all, what our heavenly Father is like? I so love and adore my dad. If you'd like to "see" him, you can check my photos on my page here. :)
Many nights you’ve graced my sight
fair Orion, hunter and groom to the abyss,
and yet it would seem an eternity
before we would meet and kiss.
Bought you’d be, and brought to me
by the grace of He who waits.
So, when I die my heart can rise
upon your valor’s brace.
He’d rename Hatsya’s famed
so my soul could light the way.
Dearbhla true poetess of love
‘pon Orion’s sword held sway.
And up I’d rise at my demise
to crest the sky and space.
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,
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
On this September’s mild evening
I watch blue stars flicker, to glow
Around your hair like angel wings
How fair the dance ‘neath our window.
That in hushed tones, I speak your name
Enshrined in warmth of timeless grace
My hands fold yours with love aflame,
While eyes rest deep from my embrace.
Although weak heart quivers in ticks
With faith, a miracle is done;
Your birthday nears at forty six
As prayers trail for more reruns.
For health anew, may God restore
The gift of life from heaven’s door.
In loving memory of my deceased mother
who suffered heart problems at age 46 ,
and survived a few. She celebrates
her birthday this September 17.
Elly Waterouse’s Maybe The Last Letter
by nette onclaud
I looked into her past, her distant past
A time when memories were to be cast
Her innocent feet twisted in the air
When she tried to show off to those who care
Dancing was her life and ballet was king
She jumped into the air and sure could sing
Songs of dance were her divine specialty
She could move with the best of them surely
I have reflections of you my sweet one
Back in the day when ballet was real fun
I showered you with affection back then
As I do now, steady with a great grin
Dance is what she learned early in her days
One she mastered and shined like those sun rays
Contest: "Reflections Of You"
Sponsor: Gail Angel Doyle
Your birth was coupled with a burst of light
You came to make my life joyous and bright
Your smile and eyes did capture swift my heart
Of mother's life you are the sweetest part
I saw perfection in your dainty hand
With just a smile my heart you did command
You snuggled in my arms of love, secure
Oh darling, of this truth you must be sure
Without you here, my sun would cease to shine
You are of a gift of God most precious, fine
Long life and health I wish my darling fair
Whose crowning glory is her raven hair
A lady in your right you’ve come to be
But in your eyes my little girl I see
For Regina Riddle's Intimate Relationship Contest
Revised September 2, 2014
What beauty shared with carefree steps,
your laughing heart would trip with grace
and lift our spirits as you slept,
a soul that's swept to our embrace.
Unfurrowed brow with silken cheeks
that blush with youthful innocence,
now safe within a world we'll seek
when all our days on earth are spent.
So wait Dear Heart, we will be there,
older and with tell-tale traces
from smiles of stories that we shared
reminded of your lovely face.
In time, my darling, we will come
to find you still forever young.
In honor of my friend's young daughter who was murdered last week.
The shadow on the crystal lake water
Comes from a young girl very sweet and pure
She’s a charmer, people want to see her
For her skin’s so smooth, and her smile’s a lure
Eyes that sure resemble puppy dog’s eyes
Her soft hand makes ripples where water lies
Tenderly she brings water to her face
No part of her body is out of place
Droplets drip down her face and to her heart
Allowing those around to see beauty
Her presence is very cute to impart
No one can deny her inner psyche
Sadly she will never stay at this age
I’ll always love my girl, at any stage
Entered into Dana'lynn Smith's "In The Meadow" contest
There on the deck, I took a practice swing
tormented in the possiblity--
then hope was dashed--I found no hope to bring
up to the plate, when Ump cried out, "Strike 3!"
I was the last to bat--in this last game--
just oh for three, my record said it all!
And in the dugout, faces all the same,
the looks of gloom! Just waiting for my fall!
I took my place, right up there to the plate.
Out on the mound, the picher grinned at me--
as if he hoped to make my swinging late,
or throw me one--I couldn't even see!
He'd walked a batter, waiting on first base,
to tie the score, if we'd get in the race!
"No girl can hit!" I heard the catcher call,
and echoed from the bleachers was the same,
we made our stands, the umpire cried "Play ball!"
and then I vowed to get us in the game!
I gripped the bat, the windup came too fast!
As did the ball, but where it should have been!
"Strike one!" the umpire yelled at last--
The fastest ball that I have ever seen!
"She'll never swing!" the catchers words for me--
then threw the ball out to the pichers hand!
While out on first, my runner waits to see
if I can swing, or only make a stand!
Right in my face--the picher scouled a bit--
while I choked up--and readied for a hit!
All set to hit--I made it then my dream!
and came the ball--I could not swing at that!
"Strike twoooo!" the umpire made it scream,
then said to me, "You've got to swing the bat!"
The bat it weighed a hundred pounds or so;
"She'll never swing," the pichers eyes did say,
With that he gave his very best, I know!
I glued my eyes--as it screamed straight my way!
I never saw the hitting of the ball!
but won't forget the cracking sound of it!
Nor know again the feeling of it all
of this my very most important hit!
The sound it made--that ev'ryone could hear--
a batters dream--but pichers' greatest fear!
The ball soared hard and high past second base!
then seemed to drop so slowly from above,
as quick as I could get us in the race,
I watched it bounce right off the fielders glove!
The tying run was just ahead of me!
Ole "Never-Steal" now ran like not before!
And right behind, fast as my feet could be
I gave my best! And then I gave some more!
The crowd gave out the seasons wildest plea!
As I yelled to the runner just ahead,
with all the grit that I could find in me,
"I'm going in! And if you stop--you're dead!"
Ole "Never Steal" was giving all he could
and on his heels--I made my promise good!
We saw the ball come by as rounding third!
Not once a hesitation in it all--
and as the umpire watched without a word--
he swept his arms, to make the tying call!
The score was tied--third baseman set to throw--
now ready at home plate, the catcher stood--
and through it all--my only thought was GO!
but if I did--I'd have to make it good!
I knew the ball was thrown down to home plate!
The catcher poised, and glued where he should be!
I had to slide, and heard the ball hit late!
"She's SAFE! She's SAFE!" my Daddy yelled to me!
Now layed to rest--our coaches greatest fear--
the only game we won--throughout the year!
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
They’ve traveled from one house to another.
Some may say they’re strong enough to go on
Without a woman to call their mother.
Attachment is pointless, soon to be gone.
Another house that will never be home.
Little children crying themselves to sleep,
wondering where they will be next to roam.
All they can do is to hope and to weep.
Will they love me enough now, I wonder.
Shall I go away or shall I stay here?
At night, I can still hear the loud thunder
of his footsteps drawing so very near.
Though I may never find my one true home,
For love, I’ve found- I’m no longer alone.
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou can buy drinks at McD’s for a buck,
Wait, that means thou never want to pay,
Thou went to see a psychic for good luck.
Sometime too hot thou think thou are at clubs,
The ways you act embarrass all thy friends ;
And when we need to drag thou out of pubs,
We hope thy hot behaviour will soon end.
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Especially in winter when thou wear;
Shorts too short with legs far too displayed,
“Oh my god, I can see her underwear,”
Thy “summer’s” kind of ratchet after all
Thy friends will wait until you turn to fall.
My blood undenied;
Though a red lip;
Yet a significant figure;
We are oceans apart;
Waiting to confluence;
This caused by sources religious
Which I hear will later confluence;
No response lie in wait;
When all the wishes of the sources;
Arrive at their door step when they
least expect it;
This you tell me in silence;
that the blood undenied will find it's
I trust you;
The blood of my blood that must
....My blood undenied
Do you like to stand there and watch me burn?
Do you enjoy listening to me cry?
When you hit me I feel as though I'll die,
Who knew that maternal love really hurt?
The freedom that I know I'll someday earn
Makes me swallow pride, tell her its not a lie,
That really it doesn't hurt and that I
Will never leave her. I know she will learn.
When I leave her standing out in the rain.
Walking away from the terrible place
I no longer stand for all the abuse.
Just stare out that sheet of glass - window pain,
Guilt ridden tears streaming down her pale face.
I am not to return, I will refuse.
oh mum, don't kill me if you can't afford dowry.
oh mum,don't kill me if you want a boy to birth,
oh mum, throw me alive to live on this earth,
oh mum, don't dig a hole to hide me as indian myth;
oh mum, just educate me then never feel sorry.
i shall serve you as a servant don't feel pain my living,
please ask my brother if he can protect me if dare having.
I can walk on thorns to keep you happy don't cage my
why is Indian culture don't believe that I am also human?
why is security matter for me as a man is nudity fan?
don't afraid from gangs they are coward can't face a girl,
they can't love to daughter and sisters, looking beauty
they kill girls, demanding dowry, live in a cultural
when women 'll be free in india that's facing degrading
She quietly slipped into his room
There he lay very proud and arrogant
Who had held a gun to her child's head_ "boom",
He would say_Satan his assistant
He would tell her child that he would kill her
And he would kill her beloved family
She could not know that this would not occur
The child lived for eighteen years anxiously
How can one forgive heinous offense
Committed against a child that is loved
Only through God forgiveness for events
God forgave without Him she would be unloved
She asked him if he needed anything
Promised to visit while inside screaming
Our ex-son-in-law is in a nursing home now in the last stages of Huntington's Disease
We think that he was abusive because of the illness but don't know for sure..
Our daughter divorced him and remarried to a man who is treating her good...
I remember the days of emptiness
no one seemed to be anywhere around
Love and warmth became lesser than less
the killing silence the only ear deafening sound
I'm Cathryn(*) and you're Elly I presume
"feel and be your own you and it's totally okay with me"
my dearest second mom entered the room
she sat simply and silently right in front of me
I felt no longer like a worthless black swan
her tender love and care made me feel fine
suddenly there was that shoulder to cry on
and my mother who recognized me and what was mine
she shared her inner beauty now mirrored in me
she gave birth to the little girl I always wanted to be
Written for "Sonnet on a Intimate Relationship - Poetry Contest"
(c) Elly Wouterse
(*) in Dutch spelled "Cathrien'..
Daddy lied to his sweet little girl,
wiping a tear and a golden curl.
"You won't die" he lied, in anguished pain,
Kissing her face again and again.
"Don't Cry Daddy, it will be okay"
She said. "Just hold my hand and pray"
Daddy saw the doctor shake his head "No".
Then, he knew it was her time to go.
She loved him with a weak final smile,
"Lay in bed with me a little while."
He climbed in bed and held her tight,
praying hard to save her precious life.
Soon she fell into lasting sleep,
leaving behind the world to weep.
A normal old sonnet, for the beautiful lies contest.
Is my life not tortured enough for you to see?
I am broken as can be.
My heart is torn.
My tears stain these perfect floors.
Why are singing with glee?
Why do you not care about my every plea?
I am trapped in your arms.
I am the hopeless moth.
How did you pick me?
What is it that you see?
A girl untouched by life?
A flower blooming in the desert?
I have said goodbye to my loving integrity.
You took that from me through R-A-P-E.
(A Shadow Sonnet)
Earth mother, now return to Mother Earth
for time has taken what you were born for.
Listen for its call, oh dear one, listen,
and answer, before it pulls both thee and
me. As rain washes earth's green over me,
I remember your thumb, stained green as I.
Sun brightened the hue, rain chased the sun.
hands tilled the soil, but dirt clung on hands
to flake from green fingertips, and thus to
spread the seed; bring back life to deathlike spread,
"green up" our world as your spade cast forth green,
too singled in purpose to compass two
who work together— as partners will— who
eye the same plot of land with reaper's eye.
DEMETER AT THE CHINESE OPERA
So, I invited you to the Chinese Opera impulsively
Thinking of masks and dragons and triumphant mystery
I though it was time we threw off our coats
Of mourning, you for your daughter
Stopping one night, on the way home from a party,
So randomly, cruelly, killed by the monster
Who has slain more than all the century’s wars
And my private sorrow for which there is no funeral.
I remember your straying husband also
Loved the Chinese Opera. What will happen
If we all meet between the acts?
Surely forgiveness will come like snow on the mountain
And we will live in a harmony that can never be suppressed
In a slow majestic music that takes account of grief.
(C) Rosemarie Rowley
From IN MEMORY OF HER (2008)
I have spent many hours reflecting on my dad's last earthly days.
How he stared silently at the room's far corner, in another place.
At times, many visitors filled his crowded hospital room.
But my father's eyes were transfixed, his face peacefully consumed.
Though he could not speak, I questioned his mesmerizing vision.
As I held his hand I knew the answer, God had made His decision.
Angels had come for my dad as he quietly faded in that bed.
His time of peace had come, but it was the moment I had dread.
I wanted Dad to stay with me just one more minute, hour, day.
But summer, his favorite season, had come, the time for me to find a way
to let him go, Jesus was calling; so I kissed him goodbye through tears.
As he took his final breath, a peaceful calm washed over my fears.
I stared off into the distance, imagining beautiful angel wings of love,
embracing my dad, then flying him to the eternal summer of Heaven above.
* This is all true. I held my dad's hand and sang to him as he took his last
breath. It may have been angels or my dear grandma coming to take him home.
I only know that I felt comforted by my dad's peace.
By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders, March 19, 2012
First place in Touched by an Angel contest (Gail Doyle)
Eighth place in Emotional Poem Contest (PD)
My sugar foot, is time to go to sleep.
The toys are safely stored, and you can keep
your favorite one or two inside your bed
against your bod beneath the sheets instead
of nightmares. May you have fantastic dreams
of joy and depth (such unfamiliar things
to others less encumbered) with your real
lee feeling just exactly how you feel.
A tickle for your back, a poem or two.
You like the one 'bout lady and her shoe?
A little bit of gigglin', not too much
to make ya need to pee. And then I touch
you with a kiss. My darling missy, may
your dreams enlighten your wake hours each day.
*Where my babies were sung to, we pronounce the word "favorite" as fave writ.
This sonnet is in honor of my daughter, Mary, whose life has been a poem from day one. She taught me to love by loving.
Super Sonic Sonnet
Complete are my lover’s thoughts in dark brier
With airs of aristocracy’s sweet critique
Her mind takes flight, a supersonic liar
Smiles warmth wears deceit like a prize unique
What grows outside your lovely courtyard facade?
Quadrangular, fortified thick gray walls
Hubris, incongruous, flourishing macabre
Infamous fragile beauty flaws, that’s all
Speeding to the grave, your love is there, dead
Daughters take the splendor, learn mother’s ways
Build other fortresses, stronger, to life’s dread
Days go by, to ponder the doomed accolades
Destinations for lovers and daughters pass
Become the past without wealth that never lasts
They might be dirty birdies… but of course I love them so.
Even with the birdseed scatters far across the floor.
But I doubt they’re really dirty since they crowd my birdbath so.
And with the drought outside my door I let their water flow.
They flutter around the bowl with ease as it empties twice a day.
And I enjoy watching them play in a wonderful display.
Nowhere will you find such an intensely flowing water storm.
And 12 stick close together as they show they’re many charms.
I authorize their playfulness for my many tiny friends.
Even a tiny hummingbird comes to my window in the end.
Now that is most surprising, as I have nothing for him to eat.
We both just like admiring the view for it is such a treat.
Of course he’s really telling me to turn on the sprinkler hose.
For he loves to travel back and forth as the water travels so.
As a child my mother took care of the chicken coup and began to
Despise those Dirty Birds… but when I was young her comment turned
Into a name for those I loved… I was too young to realize her true meaning
At the time… Later it stayed with me as a memory of how different were our
lives and how things are passed along from one generation to another...
Oh, these sandbox days with shovel and pail,
Mother and girl as content as can be,
We play in the shade, delight in a snail,
Then discuss goslings and biology.
I am raising an urban preschooler
who loves the splash pad at our city park,
She climbs the steps by the old clock tower,
A brass lion laps up small fingermarks.
The patrolling officer makes her laugh,
But she prefers the stallion he rides,
Beautiful, she says, points to the flagstaff,
Yes, Sweetpea, you are, I whisper with pride.
After a snack, she naps on my shoulder,
My heart grows younger as she gets older.
Theme chosen: Happy heart
Date written: May 24, 2012 after tucking in a tired tike.
Feeling the thoughts that arise each passing day in life,
To be listened too, not to be chastised in given advice,
Wanting to be respected so real, not considered rife,
Affection daily, needing not much, desiring complete slice.
In love, I provide nurturing care when ailments occur.
In pain, I deliver daily chores wanting just sweet words.
In humor, I tell stories that may be enriched in a stir.
For these are feelings of my mind, not told for the birds.
I am not the only one belted in time by hormones alone.
However, my delivery of life challenges and stresses me.
I have intelligence, though many make me out, like a stone.
I have anger and strength, which I show in such deep degree.
I feel to be showed love, desire pleasantries from my other half.
I truly hate to be downtrodden, played as a joke in a laugh.
Auspicious August was a king of old,
who used aspersion as if it were gold.
Baron Aseptic, he declared: filthy,
and his best virtue, his asperity.
The Baroness called the king audacious,
her husband was very assiduous.
“He austerely cleansed all crime from his land,
King August could not claim something so grand.”
Though true, most ascribe her words to her end.
August assailed the Baron to defend
Pride and Respect. The Baron was astute,
killed his wife to appease the royal brute.
His atonement acceptable, the king
made him Groom in the princess’s wedding.
Denied by a child’s interruptions, sleep
hoodwinks from heavy stars, spurns my invites.
Exhaustion bleeds me dry while hours creep,
No chilled belladonna nor quill of midnight.
Restless from less rest, I mentally pace
But words fall flat, truth, they all fall flat,
And each white page turns, does an about face,
They’ve spotted a mind too blank for combat.
A thousand lines hide from a drained pen
and yet mothers know life’s priorities,
We give of our time until all is spent
on love, leaving us fulfilled yet empty.
My girl stole a heart then inspiration,
So verse pouts, awaits her maturation.
** Please, if you read this, send a smile or a nod or even a prayer or a "It'll get better! Hang in there, Mom" I need a rally ... my battery isn't low. It's dead.
There, waiting in secret for thy angelic cue,
Thy age hath come and that day hath gone
Letting dusk paint the world in a different view
Beautiful tones, envied by all but one.
For that one is held close to thy core
As the earth clutches the velvet sky which intern hugs the moon
Leaving no hate, nor lust nor any form of metallic door
To faulter those whom over you shall swoon.
And yet, even at this adoring age
Thy sparkling aura art so pronounced and so glamorous
Making frontline guardians forget their deceitful rage
Replacing vengeful thoughts with ones more amorous
Creating playground stories of kiss and tell
Stealing subtle glances and honest hearts as well.
Joie de Vivre* (Shakespearean Sonnet)
We watched her birth in awe of God's sweet eye
as she burst forth through pain at time's behest.
The sun rose full, a rainbow traced the sky,
when God saw fit to grant our one request.
We checked for toes and fingers set aright,
no cry, a blink of wonder, scent of myrrh.
Her face revealed no hint of her true plight,
she closed her eyes and slept without a stir.
But peace was shattered and our sorrow grew
with fearful news, a harmful birth defect.
Black clouds obscured the rainbow's vivid hue.
Concealed cleft palate dimmed the sun's effect.
Three times she fell beneath the surgeon's knife
thereby to purchase right of joy for life.
*Joy for life
Ladies of untrue filial ingratitude
I doubt if you are genuine to the crown
Your love thrown to a villain's attitude
The old king sees now that love speaks than clown
Words. For ladies who plucks respected beard
And poison for love is what thou see'st
A daughter who calls love silent is heard
But who dare throws own self to the tempest?
The tool that united you against your blood
Stained and split you against your selves
You shall never be reborn in this world
If you were, you should not be your selves
Women of ruthless heartlessness who turn
Milk of humanity to demonic buns
I slave away
And during the day
I read, I watch
I plan, I dream
Making everything seem
That in a few years it will all come together
But in a few years will all of this matter?
I’m a jack of all trades
But a master at NONE
I slave away
Until the day is done
But for what?
Am I doing all of this Just to have something to do?
I ask, I pray, I watch
No time for fun
Not until ALL my work is done
In hopes to better my future
In hopes to better myself
Not leaving my dreams to be lived by someone else
I’ve read all the books
I’ve done all the classes
I’ve listened to the masters instead of the masses
7 steps to wealth
12 steps to riches
The ticket to the money train
The key to the treasure box
I’m overwhelmed by all this “want this” & “want not”
Who am I?
Who will I be?
I guess only God can look in and really see.
Maybe I’m looking over all the important things
Maybe my “riches” aren’t exactly what they seem
Maybe it’s love, patience, giving and kindness
Maybe its overcoming life’s struggles, chaos, and madness
Maybe it’s in the strength of my mind over the dismay of the world
Maybe it’s in my parenting of my sweet, teenage girl
All this time I thought I had failed
I thought my ship to success had already sailed
I thought I was a jack of all trades and a master at none.
But my kid said, “No, Mom, you’re wrong.
You’re a master at one.
You raised me right, you raised me well.
You’re a great mom! I can tell.”
Wow, well people do say
You can’t buy happiness
And I’m one of the few
That believes this is true.
For all the work, learning, and adding action to plans,
I’ve found that I’m rich in character, integrity, and helping my fellow man.
So I stopped thinking of all this “wasted” work I had done over the years
I realized that through the blood, sweat, pain, and tears
That my efforts, dreams, and goals weren’t in vain
Instead of money, homes, cars and other material things
I got something that money cannot buy,
Beautiful, smart, and wise.
Yes, I’ve mastered something
And this something is great!
And here I thought it was way too late
Yes, I’m a jack of all trades
But now I’m a master at ONE!
In all my years
I’ve become a great mom!
I’m truly a success
Because of you Jess!
Our death of soul steals slowly through the years
the fog of mind that's never known to be;
brought on by laughter, love, and hate and tears
the fate of all no one can ever see.
It brings the withering of life, and all its leaves,
once green and shining in the morning sun,
now setting on it all, in evening grieves
for lack of interest in what life has done.
Compassion leaves the mind, once fired and prime
and old and tired now beats the heart we knew
life now mundaned by passing of all time,
there's little left the heart would like to do.
Old one, you're numbered to your final breath.
Your rest is not until it's done in death.
Don’t weep for the loss
I’ve merely went across
Know that I am here
Always will I be near
In the way you walk
And the way you talk
Thru your words of strife
To guide you thru this life
In your beautiful stare
All the elements in the air
Running thru your veins
And whatever shall remain
Presenting thru your smile
And your fashionable style
In every beat of your heart
You’ll feel we’re not apart
With every warming breeze
And the swaying of the trees
Thru your precious laughter
And any time thereafter
In those mesmerizing eyes
Your mother is still alive
In each and every thought
Enacting what I have taught
Thru the precious moments
And every single torment
Thru every scent you intake
And each and every mistake
Your mother has not died
Your soul's where I reside
THE TWO BROTHERS AND THEIR SISTER
Brother 1 - Tom
My Sister Needs Help
She's never had the chance to be in love
she thought she should reserve virginity,
and dreamed the things all girls are dreaming of
depending on support from me and thee;
she found some good in ev'ryone she met
until the night the streets took her into
another world no one would soon forget
to meet the scum of life, and what they do;
thinking her dead, after they had their fun
they left her there with life about to be,
now we are told, there's nothing to be done
if she gives birth, she'll die, most certainly.
To save a sister, whom I hold so dear
what choice is this that fills our lives with fear?
Brother 2 - Dick
My Sister's Easy
She's got her life just like it always was
but now her cryin's got our family fare
confused at best, because of what she does,
she never thinks nobody else should care!
She wears her skirts up to her--you know what
and ev'rybody knows she's just a flirt
but now she's got herself p-g, and not
about to tell the truth for that would hurt!
She's cryin rape, cause she don't know just who
made her that way, that night was so much fun
and they were all so drunk, they never knew
what they were doing until it was done.
And I bet she will never change her ways
she's easy and I bet that's how she stays.
I love me black woman
whom God created from the sand
the black woman that I adore
she has my eyes allure
she's my first virgin born and pure
I bade in her wisdom, power, acceptance and I am sure
She's definitely the one
that has given me a special son.
I love me black woman with vision
she's ahead with an incredible mission.
i love me black woman with passion
the quality of her blossom that I cannot ignore
in my mind she has never been bored.
I love me black woman from the very top of her head toward her bottom feet.
I love me black woman all the time
wouldn't dare trade her for a dime.
I would have write the more ,but there wouldn't be space
to describe how much a black woman worth.
She's the mother of all earth
given a gift with an unbelievable birth.
Who wouldn't love a black woman
in such case is ignant.
to abuse a black woman, I dare not
She's my black woman beautiful within and out
she's all that I 'm bout
a black woman a red rose to be
I can't help myself but see
that a black woman is all that
Precious, fragile and magnificently phat
I love me black woman.
Close your eyes sleep tonight
Dream so sweet, dream delight,
Let your eyes, close so tight.
Imagine joy this peaceful night.
Lay so still, have no sight.
Do not peek; sleep so right.
Close your eyes, my little one.
Sleep so tight, rest has won.
Dream, dream, dream blissfully.
Now my darling, you’re asleep.
In the morning, awake wonderfully.
Promising you, your dream to keep
Sleep, sleep, restfully my dear,
Your protector, I’ll be so sincere.
It was a moment that transcended time
We were all unable to stay calm
Our emotions were at their most prime
Seven years since my wife had seen her mom
Years ago, when my wife left her nation
She had to leave her family behind
Her life was full of loss and of frustration
Never, were they too far from her mind
Their words were said without their being spoken
Their embrace could crush the strongest ever
A mother - daughter bond can not be broken
Their reunion was captured forever
The energy expelled could build a bomb
Seven years since my wife had seen her mom
Who doubts the tender love of a Parent
(whose love is here and present to the end
for showing and for giving to attend
to ev'ry son's and daughter's contentment)?
Parents love when one's loved by no other;
it is a truth of nature to commend,
a law that one cannot break or transcend:
a tenet of life unlike another.
Out of tender love, Parents pray away
the evils in their children's paths all day long
that they walk in the straight and narrow way,
and then grow wise and may know right from wrong.
A Parent's love's by far a greater love,
a child's right that no one can remove.
When Desi Lou was little an obsession she did speak
Of beautiful bright colored rainbows
As many colors as one could seek
Every time a rainbow appeared; Desi would jump with joy
Pointing at the striking colorful scenery
Her search for a pot of gold I could not destroy
Leprechauns and four leaf clovers also in the midst
Laughing, bouncing hysterically
Over a simple act of nature which exists
Encouraging my daughter’s yearning
Of a child’s fairytale dream to come true
Bright, colorful and dreamy, but not near as beautiful as you
© Stacy Lynn Stiles
This sonnet was inspired while celebrating my daughter’s birthday. Everyone was eating
cake except me. I hardly ever eat sweets. “A moment on the lips, forever on the hips”.
Anyway, while they were enjoying the moment, I began to muse. Later that evening I
My daughter is older by a year today.
She is thirty-seven. I wonder where
The time has gone It seems to melt away.
It’s like an imperceptible glacier
Receding slowly, leaving once unseen
Destruction bare, exposed to view, behind.
I see what time has etched on me between
A youth of yesteryear and current time.
The mirror reflects wrinkled lines and spots.
And not to mention, but I will! The gray.
And like the ice, receding hair, a lot
Is lost. My exploratory survey?
It can be said, expressed this way: Ahem!
I once had youth and now it’s gone, Amen.
Who I was
Is who I am
What I said
Was not a scam
I'm still me
I've not replaced
My true identity
Is still in place
Look deep inside
You shall see
Your daughter, your sister
All of me
Don't be confused
By subtle change
I've only adapted
To this life of derange
(C) Stacy Lynn Stiles