My Son Moon and Star ~
Approaching the celebration of his Birth
cherishing the gift I received
within weeks of conception I knew
something amazing was in Creation ~
the Stars held a party
sending me with one of their own
Gazing at 3 shooting stars twinkling crossing the sky
It was magic It was destiny taking its flight.
In love with an October full moon
drawing and painting I liked
thinking of Vincent Van Gogh ~
caught in a loss of time
Hours going by as choosing my color
a wittness to three falling stars
A clear night sky sparkle's
A once Famous Star was sent
inspiring the tiny child inside ~
Never a doubt in my mind at all
child bearing was worth any pain received
yours will be in a pursuit of a dream ~
one to cherish and hold
My Son was born the following August ~
working on the set of Grimm 3rd season this year
as the set of Leverage for 3 years .
Has done a Indie movie here
In Paris it was seen and honored
coming soon filmed in Portland ~
"The House of Last Things "
awaiting the credits , you will see
1st Assistant Director ~ production assistant
My Young Lion Mans dream ~
A proud mom I watch every show and the credits
as foretold in a whisper to me 25 years ago
My Son & Moon and Star
A name you will all know ~
Happy Birthday to my creative Son
you will exist in my heart forever~
It's a November
when I find myself walking
My hand holding yours
Side by side arms swaying
Your little fingers interlocking with mine.
I believe it is a happy day.
I think it shows in your little sun-tanned face.
I feel it myself from deep within.
Slowly welling up like a spring of water
From a dry ground, long athirst.
I see the sun walking along gently in pace with us
Touching your brown nose and passing your limbs.
Blessing you with a soft radiance and blissful joy a child can only know.
Your school uniform lighter than cerulean sky
Matching your gaiety, perfecting a mother-child moment.
Dotting the passing clouds with pure colors of your innocence and laughter.
Gigantic floating cotton balls of clouds
like stringed balloons; oh, please hold onto them,
cease 'em before away they fly.
A moment to treasure when things aren't as happy as they should.
A many of this I pray to come,
A joyful carefree walk with my little boy;
Now, a mother's hand held by her small son.
Yeah I can get so hyped up with life so high I'm so freaking verbally drunk like a psycho,
Mind so wrong nothing in my vocabulary at that time in my mind can get right though,
A piece of this hate cake in this corrupt dictionary I'm going to have to take a bite though,
Whether the answer is written in hell yeah or heck no,
Im going to shoot through your deer less body like a scoped out rifle,
You just another liar if you say my words aint make your mind shake and awake with a stifle,
Im shooting sideways, up, down, so much I get high low,
I could be telling true lies when you see my fake gun ridden smiles,
I might just shoot self in head because Im getting a little too suicidal,
Im in need of God because I keep skipping planned revivals,
Im reading the rhyme master Shakespeare I aint reading the Bible,
Im playing with word bullets shiny as a burning star struggling for simple survival,
I want people to tell the truth but cant help but keep telling themselves lies though,
Hiidden demons in the book of lifes closet dont tell me how it is because I know,
I too onced played with life like a toy plastic as Tyco,
Im going to stand out in this world like the tower of Eifel,
Im going to bring out all my freaking hidden poetic files,
Im putting word ryhme puzzles together like floor tiles
Im going to do it now not later gator or after while crocodile,
I got little time in life left on the sun dial,
I got but few years or even months left before I face my ultimate trial,
But first Im going to have some fun into the night sun until I get riled,
But family comes first I must start to think of my own seed, my very own child,
I got to stop the ways of living stupid like Im out of hand so wild,
I must drink from the fountain of life like the Egyptians do from the Nile,
Pull my own way out this ****ing trash, this bull *****pile,
I got to stay strong in the mean time because everything in life takes a little while,
Sometimes I dont give a **** about nobody because it feels as if I have nothing to live for, but now I got a child I would die for
So now I must keep living because if I die I know I would leave behind a child behind that I would cry for,
I must walk that road less traveled like a car breaking down on the open road still trying to idle,
Walking amongst greats is going to be my own personal hypo,
I will walk strong in the days that I die in my last UNSEEN MILES......
Oh, I went to America
My grandma to see
A big yellow ball was chasing me
On a flying machine
With a wide window
A big yellow ball wouldn't let me go
In Chengdu, China
Where I come from
There's no big yellow ball to ruin your fun
You can play outside
And feel so free
There's no big yellow ball disturbing me
Oh, At Grandma's house
We finally arrive
The big yellow ball has come alive
Without my help
All by its own
The big yellow ball has found her home
In Grandma's back yard
Down on my knees
The big yellow ball makes me sneeze
I'd like to play outside
But it's hard to see
Cause that big yellow ball is blinding me
Oh, I come inside
To get away
From the big yellow ball that's here all day
It's so clear outside
There's no place to hide
From the big yellow ball it must be a mile wide!
*Through the eyes of a five year old. Obviously, the big yellow ball is the sun. In Chengdu, China it's rarely seen through the smog. Poem inspiration came from this exact quote of the child, "I can't play in your backyard because of that big yellow ball"
Sponsor: Heather Secrest
Contest Name: Tell me a story
Not under a Banyan tree
I drink coffee under an elm tree, one of many in the avenue; filtered sunlight
makes shifting pattern on the pavements, and the sun loses its cruel power.
A willowy woman walks into the only café where one can smoke, she likes to
drink coffee with her cigarette, her dog sits by the door looking in waiting.
A woman in her sixties who wears a long flowering dress, plenty of bracelets
and rings, too exotic to be Portuguese, is coming up the road. Married three
times, first to an army officer, from an aristocratic family, then to a Swiss
engineer, who built ski-lifts in the Alps. Her third husband is a poet and that
makes her sigh (downhill all the way dear) She frets about her daughter, who
is forty and not yet married. She had hoped her child would wed into
lofty society, but now she wishes her only offspring will find a man with
a steady job; not a cook or a waiter though, one must draw a line somewhere.
She has a glass of beer shows me her latest bracelet, bought this morning;
she smiles happy as a child as the sun goes on shining and leaves on elm trees
are deep, cooling green.
~~This poem contains 74 syllables~~enjoy!!
The sun rays caresses my eyesight
If I… had an interview with the sun,
Would it last about 74 seconds?
Will it count as an eloquent conversation?
Why does the sun have so many layers?
If I… could have a vacation in space,
Many things would catch my eye – the sun
Would make me BLIND!
horizon sunset --
into the blast of the wind
she entrust her dreams
The poet leaves his winter study and roams around mountains and deep woods,
The painter sold his pictures and is off to sketch on heath and highlands,
The child runs through sun kissed meadows and across dusty golden commons,
The lovers walk down country lanes and wander about each other, on mead's,
The man of the road smiles as he knows the night will not be bitterly cold,
The nightingale sings a haunting melody bringing tears to the lovers eyes,
The trees swaying in a breeze an oak drops acorns, the child collects them,
The mountains capped with snow unleashes a stream of fine words from the poet,
The heath and highlands glow with beautiful greenery and the painter paints,
The birds swoop from bough to bough the poet sees and he writes some prose,
The man of the road listens to bird song his eyes mist bringing sad memories
The evening sun falls behind the horizon a beautiful sunset the lovers kiss,
The poet sees the sunset and writes about dark golden evenings and warm nights,
The painter mixes yellow and black and that captures this wonderful picture,
The boy leaves the woods to go home as it is nearly time for his evening meal,
The man of the road lays down deep in the woods his overcoat is his blanket,
The lovers walk arm in arm as the day darkens they make their way home slowly,
The painter cleans his brushes and carefully lays down his canvas in the dark,
The poet is happy he has written beautiful words he lays in his bed reflecting,
The boy is fast asleep dreaming of the fantastic day he enjoyed in the woods,
The six unconnected people that were unknowingly were connected sleep soundly.
One and only, great sweet dream
Lullaby, my sun beam
Moonlight’s music, sky’s first kiss
Stars and magic, my one bliss
You’re just a little seed; you’ll grow into your skin
And be filled with love from both hearts within
You’re just a tiny seed deep within the soil
I only hope that you didn’t spoil
I dreamt that you grew as tall as a tree
I dreamt that you were always there with me
But dreams don’t always become true
And I have never got to be with you
You’re just a seed; you’ll grow up very strong
I only wish that I wasn’t wrong
You’re just a small lovely seed
In four months you started to bleed
My one and only, hold me very tight
I only wish that everything was right
Lovely infant, dear young dream
Golden daylight, my sun beam
You are the reason that I will always cry
Why did you ever have to say goodbye?
Dying more than ever before
Every time I miss you more
A first child that wasn’t born
Dead, now all I do I mourn
Baby only four months old
A treasure I never got to hold
Big hole in my heart tonight
Yelling “Why didn’t you hold me tight?”
(A Children's Poem)
I sit on the bank
and dangle my toes
in the cool waters of the stream
I lie back and close my eyes
feel the wind caress my face
and allow myself to dream
While the grass cushions me
I listen to the birds sing
and the water rippling past
I feel the butterfly on my arm
and I think to myself
I only wish this could last
I open my eyes
watch the clouds floating by
hear the buzzing of the bees
and, as I lie there
I whisper a prayer
make this day last, please
Boy Fish Haiku
Flood crashes over rocks
Brook flips fish up as dinner
Boy smiles, caught by sun
Pretty Polly Petree sit on her little window seal
hoping the day would be full of fun and thrills.
It was raining and the clouds left no sun shinning
but pretty Polly Petree believed in silver linings.
So off to her room she left running, in hopes to find
some paint to make a Sun so bright and shinning.
Polly Petree painted a lovely view of the sun and flowers
to chase away all the clouds and the thunder showers.
She took and hung it in the window facing the sky and
away went the clouds and the sun waved Hi.
Butterflies and Blue Birds sat on the window's edge and
said Thank you Polly for the dryness upon our head.
You are welcome, said Polly and I hope your day is fun
and Oh so jolly.
These walls are blinding,
Holding no reflection,
Revealing no tone, shade, or hue.
Swallowing all life and personality within.
These walls are weighted with sadness and neglect.
Wonders and horrors of the world barred off.
Alone she sits, needle at bedside.
Along with the spark in her eyes this four-cornered room has long since gone dark.
Her sun once brightened her world,
Illuminating the four-cornered abyss.
But alas, the night always comes for the day's bright sky.
Alone he sits, at her bedside,
He's lost her again hasn't he?
Day breaks, the sun is rising,
A little boy calls for his mother to come home.
When the sun goes down, and the breeze freshens,
when the night fills the sky, I’ll then feel at home,
as I’ve none of my own.
And I’ll feel as though I belong.
When the moon comes up and lights the night
and the stars dot the heavens, I stare transfixed
in awe of what I see
as I silently wish with all my might.
To see the sun rise, not in the morning as all else,
but in my mind or in my heart,
is what can put me to rest.
In a corner of my mind, where no-one ever sees,
lies a child in fear.
Of the terror of the day,
and the mysteries of the night.
And as I watch that child grow old and alone,
I wonder why the light never shines in on him.
When the sun brightens the darkest of days
and the moon and stars illuminate the night,
why must anyone live in the darkness of the
mind, which no light can reach?
What can block the light,
what can break the spell,
what can move this one to freedom?
Why must the fight never leave the mind,
why must the child grow old?
Why do the stars never twinkle?
Why do the leaves fall off;
why does the river taste like tears?
Why does the mind ache and hurt?
Why does the heart pull up curt:
Why does my soul feel pain?