Inside our parents’ bedroom by the door,
our sister Jenny played the old piano.
From all of us a melody would soar
in varying degrees of voice soprano.
A high soprano Jennifer would sing
as pretty Melanie would sing along.
The house with lovely harmony would ring
when I and Dori “seconded” the song.
For church we’d often render “Silent Night.”
Our tiny congregation made such fuss
as if we were four angels in their sight,
and Mom would fairly swoon with pride for us.
Of whims that took no flight I am lamenting;
Mom’s dream, “The Miller Girls . . . now presenting!”
For Sonnet on an Intimate Relationship Poetry Contest:
My best intimate relationship began at home. My four lovely sisters, three of whom are mentioned here, will always be the greatest of my friends.
When I was young, I had a great disdain
for Campell's nasty soup named Alphabet.
One Saturday it was our mother's threat
we had to eat it up or home remain
and miss the matinee. How inhumane!
Mom left the room; I never will forget
the thing which I'd repeat without regret -
I took that slop and tossed it down the drain!
When Mom returned, I'd "downed" all of my soup.
Again she left; Mel went to dump HER meal
and at the sink got caught. Poor nincompoop!
She missed "Red Riding Hood" while I, the heel,
went out. Our mom was left "out of the loop."
My little sister did not even squeal!
(Some slang words here for my non-native friends:
a "nincompoop" is a foolish person,
"out of the loop" means to never be aware of something
and the last verb "squeal" means to "tell on someone"
I always tried to get away with murder when I was young
and I can't believe my sister missed the movie by not telling
on me! On the other hand, I really enjoyed "Red Riding Hood" heehee)
For Frank H's
A Childhood MEMORY Poetry Contest
You have always been there for me,
and i've tried hard to be there to.
You have always tried to change me,
for the better, i know it is true.
everything You tell me is filled with meaning,
it really lightens my soul to hear Your voice.
there are no words to describe this feeling,
i love You more and more, You leave me no choice.
You are my reason for living.
and i will never forget who You are,
You will never ever let that happen,
Because thats just who You are.
You are, and will always be my shining star,
Don't you forget that, i love You as You are!
Being the little sister in a family with mostly boys
Was very hard and difficult liking all their toys
I loved to play in the dirt , could throw any ball
Played "running bases", "tag", and loved "off the wall"
My sister was way older and she was never home
So I was forced to battle with my brothers on my own
I fought my battles valiantly, but each time I would lose
Being youngest in a family,I often became the muse
I cried many tears those many years ago
For competing with those boys,I had a lot to show
I grew older,strong, and smarter and chose a tough career
Cooking for a living in a man's world, I showed no fear
Those brothers had taught me to always fight for what's right
A women could cook as well as a man, and besides I had a knife!
Her Comments, entranced me: Her POEMS even more so
Her POETRY enhanced me: She watered me, so I could grow
A Bow, an Honorary Golden Pen, My Respect I give to thee
To my Sister Sharon, Love I send, FOREVER throughout Eternity
We share a kindred Spirit, our Emotions, Heartbeat, Love and Fears
L’il Sister Writes; I hear it, I feel her words of joy, love, sorrow, tears
“Is Your inkwell filled with my thoughts?” “Yes, and YOUR “Inspiration”
I will not attempt to change Your thoughts: “become a POETRY “Inspiration””
Your lyrics, on the roads of my mind, Your Spirit beating in a Loving Brother’s Heart
I know not where to begin the path of my mind, “Your Love for “Lenore, Always a start”
With quivering hand I grasp my Quill, dip it in the inkwell, Lost in the words LOVE Writes
To Honor YOU a Brother’s; “Thrill”. HGarvey Daniel Esquire, (HG) ; Harry wrote these Writes
So sad to see YOUR Pen Laid down my Most BELOVED ; Sharon Weimer ( “ L’il SIS “ )
I Thank-YOU for the POETRY and the times we have (SHAR)ED, I give too YOU a Loving
( " K I S S " )
A Sonnet Tribute to : SHARON WEIMER, A former POETESS on this site (We Miss YOU)
Some Advice in This Sonnet
A few words of advice in this sonnet:
Don’t hurt, if you too don’t like to be hurt.
When bad deeds return, you might regret it.
So watch your deeds, and take care of your words.
Always know that from above you’re being watched.
On your right and left are angels writing –
Collect whatever good deeds you may lack,
To please God and meet Him while He’s smiling.
Avoid supplications prayed against you,
Especially those of righteous Muslims.
Beware of everything you see and do –
Know that on Judgment Day, you’ll be questioned.
Obey Allah’s Rules, and good you shall get.
If you displease Allah, yours is regret.
Miriam / Mariam Mababaya
Alive in hearts you served so well
Far b’yond the call; b’yond oceans’ swell
Come rain or shine you were always there
For family, friends and strangers cared
Child of love; reflecting pool
Mirror of your parents; God’s building tool
Foundation most solid, you withstood the gales
And mocking waves, arose, only to fail
You heard His call; you ran the race
Bathe in joy exquisite as you see his face!
God of Salvation, God of love
Who called you to Himself; your home above
Forever, you’ll be to your family left behind
Flesh of our flesh and of God’s Spirit, divine
RIP: Winifred Elizabeth Beryl Carey
You fair and I dark had colored the day
with sorrel and moss, bluebell and violet,
As an errant breeze swept each cloud away
from a sky bordered by jaded eyelet.
I wished you bliss and loyal company,
A life filled with love, no burdens to bear,
Sister, you prayed the same things for me
‘Til shadows deepened from our despair.
We gathered blooms as we wept o’er men,
Hearts finding comfort in identical tears
that fell on soft ground till we smiled again
and trotted home like unbroken yearlings.
There, I banned burs sense could not free,
while you simply pruned my sensibility.
*This was inspired by two works of art. Renoir's IN THE MEADOW (click on the about this poem link if you can) and Jane Austen's Sense and Sensibility.
(Dedicated to Fellow Poet and Kindred Friend, Anya Jaenicke, to whom I am indebted for being my "poetic compass" and source of direction)
Does life restrain me from thoughts on your mind;
does it impede my mind's-eye picture of you?
Alas, with my circumscribed point of view
I know this,--that you're of a gracious kind!
A poet and a mentor, you remind
me of a lost faith in what's pure and true,
ideals once held by me and by the few
that all the innocents have left behind.
So, Anya, I extol you as a brother
with these well-chosen lines from this sonnet;
please esteem them (as you would your Mother)
as if your Muse wholly depends on it.
A guide and lodestar, you have earned my love
like the poets whose works come from above.
LETTER TO A SORE BROTHER, BEAUTIFUL SISTER (DEDICATED TO MY BROTHER’S AND SISTER’S LOVE)
Early jungle makes me a desire
To be alone in the belly of our dear beautiful mother
Because our growing up is such and irony
Which made me rejoiced each moment this time
That wishes were never allowed to be rose
For men of wrong mind to buy
There in my childhood irony moment
We fought as if it is created share hatred
We wish for all except one that pays a little pain
For i held back from all
As all held back from me and other all
Indeed, people taught that our life is a share pain
A sore injury to the world of love
Because i loved each moment my brother bleed from our father’s hell
I went behind the scene to celebrate my goal
kindly, the moment is always become
As i happily shun and damn the future
... who did you think you are with my future
I sometimes ignorantly murmur as a child
In my little kingdom emptiness, i rejoice in the brothers pain
A little hatred of thee, a more love of me
I love each time i am loved alone
To hate thee by my blood and cause sheepishly i became and honour
As this irony grows into something still ironic
I wish my pain could allow my pen speak plain
To cry such an awesome deep and sore blood
At each moment the rain of thee bath me thoroughly
To see thee share all to have me clothed
To borrow from the enemy to have me homed
even to lose all from the gods to make sure that i have all from the goddess
The brother even stole to have me meal
More like the blood and doing of the mother, it shared abroad
As brothers all lie to have me protected
Much illiterate to make me the literate king
Oh bleed me death less i say this pain of love
Sisters risk of the night, the horror evil men to see a smile in this lips of mine
That i wish never remember the selfish boyhoodness
Ay! How i see my brother’s cry in his desolation
Not for him or for his little joy
But for the pain of a dear brother
To save all only to loose all to life a brother
Its pain of the ugly moment in a close death
It was determined and death paid of thee
But the brother and sister’s coming death
Woke brothers will up, sisters ghost down
I need to save my brother
Leave my life to save my brother
And take it once his breath is back
There the sacrifice of a dear brother made me desire
Never a child as this in my next world
Because you are a brother, a beautiful brother
A sister, very handsome sister that i hold dearest to my breath
And love dearest to my heart beat
[Note: This was inspired by a heart-wrenching film I saw on Yu Tube about two children in
Africa see here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3v7ZQUzr0yo ]
In deepest Africa, the missioner,
Stumbled on a village plight.Two children,
Wretched lying on the dirt, lonelier,
Pathetic, starving in plain sight ; broken.
They seemed like doll’s, discarded on the ground,
With withered limbs instead of proper legs,
“They’ve Polio as well”, the word’s around.
Two children cast aside like they were dregs.
Out from the bush the children’s sister came,
With water in a basin and some soap.
She had no food to give them , global shame,
But washing their frail bodies gave some hope.
Their little sister was no more than eight,
She did what she could do and she was Great!
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.
When I was a child, all the neighbors said,
“He looks exactly like his father! ”
While back at home, said all my kin
“He looks exactly like his mother! ”
Then came the age I went to school
Teachers commented in perfect scroll
And wrote back then, “All things considered,
He is, in many ways, his sister! ”
So to home I scurried and found a mirror
To know which one was true, and what a wonder
And curious! Yet surprised I should not be
To find my father, mother, sister, all three—
—staring back at me.
We are a family conisisting of six,Billy,Shirl,Karen,Lynne,Myself and Trace
i would say that Lynne stands out,so proud you have done well with
no hairs or grace,
your warm personality,kindness caring are just a few of your charms
you will go to any lengths to see see people come to no harm
Your advice is accurate and reassuringly strong
and if taken onboard you will see where is the wrong
i can see you are doting nanny of Erin and Owen
and the love u create can blatantly see it flowing
well my sis , i will wind down your little rhyme
although i know i could stretch it,for many a line
and keep words flying,like a turtle dove
so i will wrap this up for you and send it off with love
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.
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.
You See Nothing Sinister
Written By: D. Collins 3/11/15
You see nothing sinister, allowing it to get up close.
Which means you haven’t been listening, and took it as a joke.
Your game can’t compete with what’s out here in the world.
To most of us still standing, you’re but a little girl.
Yeah! You might say you know, and that you are grown.
A whole lot took place while you were stuck at home.
It is not your fault getting married at nineteen.
Now you’re prey, and showing signs of being green.
I’ve got your back, ‘cause that’s what big brothers do.
But, you must open your mind before I can educate you.
You see nothing sinister when it is right in your face.
You see nothing but good in the human race.
Well, I am here to tell you, it’s nothing like what you see.
People changed during your long term matrimony.
Think of sharks in the water, and you just fell in.
And, your only salvation is through your natural kin.
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
The dead brown maple leaves litter the path
Where I walk. Others of its kind dropping
From their lofty homes, victims of the wrath
Of autumns chilling gales, unrelenting
And tellingly- stark reminder of death-
Companion through life all of us must face.
I tread over brittle corpses beneath
My feet in their final resting place
And I am reminded of my sister
Poor soul! Who died one chilly October.
I remember the maple leaves that stirred
Around my feet that day she was interred.
Lifeless entities swirling, hurling down
Atop her casket deep beneath the ground.
I’ll add you to my safe keeps.
And put you with my collections.
I’ll sit back with my own reflections.
After, I’ve taken hundreds of peeps.
I’ll put you under my pillow where I sleep.
And then there will be no exceptions.
It’s where delusion versus deceptions.
You and I will never weep.
Until your heart is free to run,
I’ll be collecting ashes and dust.
I’ll never be done!
And I’ll never rust.
My collections of restorations appeal.
Piece by piece many of you will heal.
®Registered: Ann Rich 2006