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Best Brother Poems

Below are the all-time best Brother poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of brother poems written by PoetrySoup members

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New Brother Poems

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BROTHER, U LIED TO US by ONESMUS, ARINDA
My Brother by McKibben, Rilee
BROTHER I HEARD YOUR WAR CRY by ONESMUS, ARINDA
SO BROTHER YOU SAW BLACK BOARDS by ONESMUS, ARINDA
My Brother by Dutta, Anisha
Accept Me Brother by McGeachy, Gerrard
GET IT TOGETHER BROTHER by curtis futch jr, kurtis scott aka
Brother In Arms by Rose, Mystic
Dear Big Brother by Baker, Sarah
Friend, Brother, Companion by Kirk, Jacob

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The Best Brother Poems

Details | Brother Poem | |

Forgotten Heroes of the Somme

Over the top lads, for old Blighty! Hold the colours high!
Say a little prayer for me, for this summer day we die.
My brothers from the ripened field and blackened mill, shop floor, 
Your brother in a killing field to fight a rich man’s war.

In bloodied mud and shattered wood, fight legions of the brave,
Unwitting youth, you’ll do your duty until you’re in the grave.
A sergeant greets a fresh-faced boy, “welcome to the slaughter!”
Here you die from three diseases, bullet, gas or mortar.

In arms we fight together and in leaden hails we pass,
We die amongst the filth and stench that once was verdant grass.
“In the morning we will remember them” we hear the leaders call,
Those fickle words of history, will not remember us all.

Copyright © Howard Bull | Year Posted 2009


Details | Brother Poem | |

Forty Today

Visited you today
as the sun set in the horizon…

the orange tinged carnations 
were a perfect complement 
for the skies
and for you… 
orange and blue
always remind me of you

the winds softly blew
and I just sat there
staring at the grass,
well more at your name really…

hardly believing
what I am looking at, 
that it’s been seven years

of missing you,
of just putting that reality
at the back of my mind…

But there are days,
such as today
which make me 
confront that reality—

I see your smile,
remember your laughter
celebrate your spirit
and your love

Tears, I tell you I have
the most stubborn tears
maybe because they 
make it so real for me?

I look around me
and look for that sign

Nope, not there…

I say a prayer
and speak to you
thankful for the life shared

I kiss the date that you were born

and walk away

my reflection on the car window
misty

One last look around,

and then I see it…

a cat, as we drive away…

Skies now streaked purple and pink


**My brother would have been 40 today, May 6…

Copyright © binibining P.oiNkk | Year Posted 2011


Details | Brother Poem | |

Standstill

Strangely bent this journey extends
Surreal at times, yet so real at ends
Each end confronts with a hardship of choices
With an abrupt passing, or an eternity of voices...

You and I, once on similar trends
Like brothers, we traversed all evil impends
The wheels then turned, unleashed worst of fears
We parted asunder on an ocean of tears

Through fallen decades, aggrieved heart sustained
I found my calling, forgot I was pained
Just when the going got peaceful and boring
Gales of anguish, and war started pouring

Again, I was forced to extinguish my wills
Left home for those in need of my skills
Forced to welcome the worst of thrills
A reward for one with the highest kills?

As we splattered blood on uncertain causes
Strode down the road of victories and losses
A vessel, merely, I was as I killed
Of sons, of husbands, of fathers, I spilled

In the heat of the battle, as I charged through
When my craving eyes met the eyes of you
That instant, that second, that moment, I knew
Neither decades nor ages could help subdue

My faltering sword could no longer fight
For whom I now behold in my sight
And I question my vow, having vowed despite
Whether or not my cause was right

Yet again, I stand on the recurring hill
In the midst of havoc, at a standstill
A piece of land that I swore to defend
Is it worth the life of a brother, a friend?

Copyright © M. Hussain Effendi | Year Posted 2011


Details | Brother Poem | |

Football, Beer, His Car and Kid

-The Same Old SongS-

That's all he ever talks about 


~SKAT~

Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2015


Details | Brother Poem | |

Simply time to go, a little brother's lamentation

Too hard for me to say goodbye
For all apparent reasons why
Even though we all know it must be
Each heart will someday stop the beat
When the rhythm of life, and silence, finally meet
.
Yet I always seem so surprised 
To find that death is part of life 
Knowing that regret, will now haunt my every rhyme 
The specter called "if only", will inhabit every line.
Wish I could arbitrate a deal to have gained a little time
Just one more talk with Sissy, to ease my guilty mind. 
.
And the sun now sets on my regrets
I gamble on time and lose each bet
Thinking I'll move on and yet, 
here I set . . .
Wishing for one more time 
One more pun
One more smile 
That will never come 
.
If I could just recall the things you said that mattered to you most.
Memories un memorized
That now I'll never know
Years of conversation when I didn't pay attention
Times I should have said I love you 
And somehow failed to mention
.
Then when you tried to tell me you felt your time was drawing near
Your selfish little brother pretended not to hear.
Even when you did your best,  and tried to let me know
You'd made your peace and you were ready, and that for you . . . 
It was simply time to go

Copyright © Kelly Crenshaw | Year Posted 2015


Details | Brother Poem | |

Brother Of The Quill

Brother of the Quill
Join me in a dance
For mother sings nightly
And father sleeps within a trance
Deerskin feet 
they'll never hear our steps
Through hemlock and the fields of wheat
All night long we will dance
Moon Mother lights our way
And our ancestors shine as bright stars
We will run as the wolves
And sing from our hearts
Brother of the Quill
Join me in a prance
We will shoot stars with our arrows
And wish for another dance
Deerskin tents
They'll never hear the swish
Of when we sneak back in
And fall asleep before Father wakes again

Copyright © Jay Loveless | Year Posted 2012


Details | Brother Poem | |

Remission (In Memory of William Watt).

Birth begins the tragedy in us. Life's
First sound is a blank scream
Against sorrow's hidden portends of strifes
All we know are mirages and dream.

Mother took the news staring at the sky
She must have cried inside
For I have no evidence else. There's no why
For it ... how my rage defied
Her callous front ... he was her first boy
The only hero she spoke well
Of, his name was the formula for joy
In our house: anecdotes tell
Of his escapades ... youth defying fate
He had a cat's tenacity for life
And from evil wills found a golden gate
Of scholarship and exotic wife.


I remember when the years pulled him back
All he came with was a bag
Of books, and a couple suits in novel sack
His eyes time warped, a lag
Of missing years and loneliness enfolding him
But he was handsome still
And my soul cartwheeled at joy's fresh brim
Those moments that he filled
When eyes first contact spelled pride to claim
This aristocrat like a medal
I could wear. So young he was, her true flame
The son of love's sweet recital!

And many days sitting in his shadow, I heard
Him dream big things like stars
Far away, warm things like a fluttering bird
Things made bright to cover scars
In the sore of memory. His mind was his cliff
A risky place in the high winds
And closer to the edge for the Grail he'd drift
O how the giddy world spins!
He died in Kingston: William came and went
And my mother looked at the sky
But until she died, about his memory was silent
And I forever wonder why.

I loved him, you know, he was the first best thing
A poor child had to claim or show
The world ... with him I was no more common. A king
He made me in his gold of glow
Something that I looked forward to meet in me. I,
Like mother, been silence since
But sometimes my heart just heave and would cry
For time this love cannot rinse
And I that moment cannot comprehend, that death
Gave no notice to his lauded day
And like common dust on a wild wind's balmy breath
My brother was swiftly swept away.

Copyright © L'nass Shango | Year Posted 2009


Details | Brother Poem | |

one race

The firmament above, beneath we exist,
This diversity in divine artistry
Same eyes divers sizes
Different skin same sin
Different color same honor
Same human same humor
Why try to sort out maize from corn? They are all same
Cus just one shot, your race wont spare you

Copyright © victor nwakanma | Year Posted 2015


Details | Brother Poem | |

Galaxies Came Between

He'd be typing away on his desk
with blueprints for the next big thing,
While I'd be staring off into the azure sky
appreciating the "insignificant" things

You really are a genius
in your field of technicalities,
with which you thoroughly water;
A wife, a place of your own,
and a destination in mind

Me?

You'll find me in the corner
(no not a corner... think rounded edges,
much more safe)
Half past ten, still in bed,
with rolls of cash in a Ziploc bed
(I'm not dealing and I'm sorry if I gave you that
impression... more likely
just a descendant of Scrooge)

Your perfectly organized life
(my just screw it attitude)
Well I must say you are on your way,
but where exactly too?

I solemnly wish
we had, but one thing
in common, dearest brother,
Even with the knowledge
that I wrote this for you
I'm sure deep down
you'd think this quite sappy

And being the person that I am
I'd immediately think of tree metaphors
(now what what rhymes with cedar?)

And being the person you are
you'd probably just go about your day
wondering about the latest Apple product

You live next door
and yet somehow
galaxies came between us,
Practical you gathered sticks and stones
for your shelter here on Earth

(I was too busy daydreaming
on Mars)

From the moment I opened my eyes
and peaked my little head out
from the pool in the backyard,
we were brothers, through and through

... so why do I have this nagging urge
to shake your hand and ask



"Have we met?"

Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2013


Details | Brother Poem | |

Home Of The Hang Man

Home Of The Hang Man

The children are so full of doubt
No one is allowed to speak
No one is allowed to shout
Opinions are driven underground
Seems that every time they do it wrong
Always been the same old song
Never get it right
Never allowed to speak
Never allowed to fight

It’s a strange house
The children are so full of doubt
A strange house

The kids just don’t understand
They don’t see that this is the way it’s all been planned
Keep them frightened is the game
Then all those “other” things won’t need to be explained
Why is big brother always mad
Why is younger brother always sad
Why does he sit in his bedroom all alone
Because it’s a strange house
And not a home

It’s a strange house
The children are so full of doubt
A strange house

Everything they do or say
Is turned into to a weapon to build upon the barricade
And Dad pretends he’s not afraid
Of the sudden discovery of suffocated memories
The dark deeds linger in a cage
Of ridicule and violence that makes the babies cry
So Mum has buried her suspicions worryings away
In Sunday lunches usual farce
A make believe gathering of corrupted loving and pretended merry making

It’s a strange house
The kids are so full of doubt
A strange house




Big brother hit the self destruct
With pills and needles long before he decided he was gay
No one ever asked him why he was so mad
And  no one ever asked why younger brother was so sad
He sits up stairs in his room 
Surviving in a sea of doubt
The suffocated memories have all come out
He’s always sad and he’s always alone
The babies to they both have grown
But he doesn’t know them anymore
It’s been so long since he left that so called home

It’s a strange home
The children are so full of doubt
A strange house

Their children are so full of doubt
Brought up and made this way
All their futures turn to grey
As all the buried memories fight their own way out
Remember why they always felt so wrong
Remember what happened when we were young
And mother just closed her eyes she did not help
All the future turns to grey
Brought up and made to be this way

Father was the hang man who took their lives away



Copyright © colin mitchell williams | Year Posted 2008


Details | Brother Poem | |

Monkey See

Monkey See~

There once was a monkey named Frank
Who loved to walk the plank
He said too many jokes
Pulled too many hoaxe-s 
Ha! Ha! Ha! Then he got a good spank

*

Who's that monkey in front of me
I dare to hang with you on a tree
Oh! What I do? Will you do?
Together we are like glue
Is that my flea or your flea?

~ Skat ~

Contest~

Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2011


Details | Brother Poem | |

My Micke boys

                To be called ..
            ~   Grandma is a Honor ~

        I have been blessed with 4  Grandchildren

       ~ one lays in Heaven " Kaleb "  He is God's Angel ~
   ~ His twin brother he will always watch over , and be in his soul~

     For he loved his Brother so much in the womb ,
       he chose Heaven which gave life to his twin
      ~ I feel his spirit when I see the other Grandson ~
 
              Time passed another gift to see
               we are " Mickes" and Loved 
            Our Dad held the title in Baseball 
                   ~  that's how we roll ~
           those children are Grandmas hero's 

       The Irish they love big and Family is everything 
        The brothers will protect the beautiful sister 
              ~ as many lads will be calling ~

        Every time my Grandson hits a home run
     There will be a Angel watching proudly in the stand 

       It will be as if the Angel lifted him when he runs 
           ~no one runs faster then my Grandson~
     either baseball or Art  ~ you shall find your gift given

                These children have been blessed~
                 ~  a beauty to hard to describe 
        If you think not ~~  Take a look at the Mom  
                     That girl can stop Traffic   
                    after raising three and still~ 

          "Inspired by the gift and loss of Grandchildren "

     May our precious " Kaleb " softly rest where Angels only Dwell

Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013


Details | Brother Poem | |

My Fallen Brother

White marble stones Stand proud in the sun To remember my colleagues The heroic fallen ones Many a battle Many a campaign Some did return For some never the same On the green grass I stand Blue sky above The souls of my comrade's Like peaceful sitting doves The name on this stone Reminds me of the day My best friend and brother Was taken away An offensive was launched Brothers at war Bunker to take At the top of a tor Smoke screen exhausts the view to the hill As we wind our way through Zipping bullets, blood spill Noises of lead, as they rip through the flesh As we hit the barbed wire Now a scarlet stained mesh Objective in sight as we approach our aim As I hear the groan of the injured Many dead, maimed Grenade pin pulled Bunker window we lob Hands sweating How many lives will we rob Explosion flash, shouts of pain As the smoke lifts on this bloody terrain We enter the Bunker To witness our task The enemy lie distorted Faces grimace, death mask I turn to my brother to signal it's safe As a shot rings out in this theatre place He stands still for a moment Eyes glazing and cold The death of my sibling At 19 years old As I open my eyes and turn to my son I see what I have as he holds my grandson Family values, love and a bond As I remember my brother Of whom I was so fond I proudly walk past, salute as I go The white stones standing proud Peaceful doves in a row I find myself fortunate to stand here and tell To talk of my brother, and the fallen as well .

Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2014


Details | Brother Poem | |

I am

I am mother (father) sister daughter
Favourite aunt, SELDOM rant
Pan Flute player, dragon slayer 
Own nothing pink, at least I think
Teach Sunday school, kids find that cool
I am not to lean, I’m sure you’ve seen
Curly hair, I seldom swear
But if I do, God help you
Sing in a choir, now I’m on fire
Love my dog, I want a blog
I am very kind, at least in my mind
Love good movies, never been much of a sleaze
I just gave you a look inside my book
So for now I take a bow.

I am female
Sorry I just found a fluffy beautiful pink bath robe.


Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 
11.06.2014
Frank Herrera’s Contest:
I am
2nd

Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2014


Details | Brother Poem | |

The Truth Room

Come with me my Brother,
to a secret place where Light and Shadow line the face with fear and grace,
leave sophmoric style, wry smile and sly bile on the road of your forgotten mile,
sick sarcasm is the symptom of envy, a pet to your heart destroyer,
such artifice and malice have no language in this room of roasted dreams,

Enter through the damaged door, touch the destruction of vandals,
you have never been here before, where gold blood cuts the floor,
do you see how the walls move like squalls at our approach,
feel how they tell stories with the sensations of defeat, anxiety, impropriety,
in here we witness a collection of seperate yet synthesized segments of Self,
childhood torment, shallow manhood, virility limp as stolen victory,
underachievement, the underbelly of your arrogance, flacid like placid passion,

We journey further into this gallery of emotional gallows
smelt by the hurt of innumerable adavances
repelled by the demands of Quality,
you will writhe wildly
from the harrowing healing leeching into your concepts of self control,
graceful in absorbtion of Truth's attrition,
fruitless ambition shall now cling as cleaving contrition,
your face Brother, look long into the shimmer of sorrow become the old,
tattooed you are like a snake's skin checkered and beautiful
with scaled episodes of submission and aggression, dying to be Divine,
I want you to know that there is no exit of ease from this place Brother,
we trek within your very Soul,
this is the home and harbor of everything you've decided to be,
there are other rooms here, some of joy and some of strife,
but you leave not the Truth Room of your anger
until the Light finds no fault in your intention -

J.A.B.

Copyright © Justin Bordner | Year Posted 2014


Details | Brother Poem | |

MAKING BEDS IN A BURNING HOUSE

           

I found you crying in the closet when you were only five
A walk-through closet that opened onto both our bedrooms
You had a bad dream    didn’t know where to turn
Mom and Dad weren’t home    left us with Uncle Joe
but he always went to bed right after supper
And he wasn’t our uncle    just a lonely old man
who stayed on when we rented his house

You were my little brother    so I took you to my bed
Later you told me I petted you like a little lost puppy
The next morning I helped you make your bed
Our first chore of the day    making beds    
smoothing and tucking covers 
erasing signs of disturbed nights
Making neat what was chaos
We didn’t realize we were making beds in a burning house

Inside our home reality was knocked askew
to match our town    struck by the tornado a week ago
I held tightly to your hand as we boarded the bus
Mom was running away from Dad    taking us with her
No great adventure awaited us    only fear of an unknown future
At ten all I knew to do was bury my face in your cowlick and cry

You ran away from home     I found you sitting at the corner
with tears rolling down dirty    freckled cheeks
stumped because you were not allowed to cross the street
Your pillowcase full of clothes    a sad lump on the pavement
I took your hand and led you home
I taught you to make your own bed
with perfectly tucked corners and fresh clean sheets
But our house was still burning

Soon only the two of us would be left
Our sister headed to Heaven wrapped in her chenille bedspread
Mom trailed behind hanging onto a loose tail of the sheet
flapping forlornly in a cool autumn breeze
I took your hand    sat with you on the window seat
We watched parades of people passing through our house
who never noticed us     And we waited
We waited years for Mom to return    although she slept in her bed
each night and made it first thing in the morning
Our house was still burning

You grew up to set your own houses on fire     
It was what you knew    making beds in burning houses
Each time I found you    took you by the hand
led you to a peaceful place where we could sit quietly
and watch the world go by for a time    
Words    unnecessary between us     
They had been since before you could talk
when Mom placed your chubby newborn self 
in my four-year-old arms    and said    Here’s your baby brother    
You watch out for him    He needs you

Your fires have all gone out now    
No burning embers left to catch on the bed covers
You make your bed with ease    precision    
and a renewed sense of purpose
I watch happily from a distance of only miles
And know you can feel me    still holding your hand




For Kevin, the most exasperating, loyal, and lovable little brother anyone could have.

Copyright © Monterey Sirak | Year Posted 2014


Details | Brother Poem | |

I Wish You'd Grow Faster

"Boy! We're gonna be the best of friends! Lying here, I watch you sleeping, I sure hope that this will not be a trend 'Cause when we play ball,the goal you'll be keeping Since Mommy told me you would be coming I've been waiting for a very long time Now each day I see how much you're growing Imagine the joy of knowing you're here and are mine! From the first moment you arrived home I've noticed when you sleep, time goes pretty slow And sometimes, you seem to sleep just like a stone! But that's ok! Mommy says sleeping makes you grow I smile as I imagine the two of us at play And picture in my mind the many things we'd learn We'll pet horses at the zoo and feed them hay Come Christmas we'll buy gifts with money we'll earn I love you, my 'lil brother, Lucas I wish you'd hurry up and grow Yes, we will be causing some rocus I'll teach you all you need to know!" ~*~
By Annalise 04/29/11 FOR: Miranda Lambert's "Brotherly Love" Contest (Inspired by photo of Logan as he watches his baby brother, Lucas sleeping)

Copyright © Annalise a.k.a. Audrey Haick | Year Posted 2011


Details | Brother Poem | |

AChristmas Story

Christmas Eve in the Gardner household
With mum’s prep for next day going well,
When her two boys, 9 and 7, began to fight
And Mike, her oldest, decided to tell

His brother Kenny, that there was no Santa
“Yes there is,” yelled Kenny, “that’s a lie!”
“No it’s not,” said Mike, “it’s just dad dressed up.”
Mike went quiet, and then started to cry

Mum came through when she heard the commotion
And asked Kenny, why he was so sad
“Mike told me that there is no Santa.”
She turned to Mike and told him, “That’s bad.”

“Well there isn’t,” said Mike, “it’s you and dad
Who put our presents under the tree,
At least, that’s what they’re all saying at school
And what Jimmy Jones told me.”

“And you believe everything Jimmy Jones says?”
Mum asked Mike taking charge of the situation,
Knowing that Jimmy was known for his lies
Perhaps she could use him, as damage limitation

Mike thought for a while; then he quietly said
“No I don’t, because he sometimes tells lies.”
Then he went over, and gave his brother a hug
Saying, “I’m sorry I made you cry,

It’s Christmas Eve, you shouldn’t be sad
Santa’s coming to bring us new toys.”
And with peace restored, they ran up to their rooms
Mum went back to work, thinking, ‘Boys!’

Copyright © Janette Fisher | Year Posted 2009


Details | Brother Poem | |

My Primary Emotion

             ~ My Primary Emotion~

Three days ago I decided to become heartless by
eliminating my Spirit and Soul I could not take
the agony anymore.

I urged my lawyer to come, he looked at me and 
asked, what is wrong? Gazing at him said, 
I don't regret committing that felony against them 
I need to be punished lets go to court. 

Having no reaction, looking disoriented he 
opened the door walked me to his car & drove 
to court.
 
Standing opposite the judge I stared at 
him bluntly, he was reviewing my report 
looked at me ushered to sit in the box 
to be persecuted.

The defense lawyer aware of my crimes 
seemed intrigued and asked, madam 
what caused you to retaliate against your 
Spirit & Soul?.

I needed to disrupt their thoughts which 
turned against me, the chaos in my brain 
became unbearable, exhausted by their 
discussions aggravated my strength 
weakened me, my whole body was 
antagonizing, intentionally forcing my 
thoughts to become heartless, merciless
when I attacked them.

Both profited from my kindness my 
patience, my healing was not responding,
needing some peace to pray for a miracle
as my young brother today is near death, 
cancer of the lungs, he`s getting colder by 
the minute, not eating, not socializing, alone, 
my tears were overflowing beyond control,
when I heard a friendly whisper coming from 
my Heart crying, enough is enough your thoughts 
need to stop to allow yourself recognize wrath is 
unbearable, your sorrow is taking you nowhere, 
wait for the diagnosis.

Out of compassion the judge set me free
my kindness befriended my Spirit & Soul
together we went back home. Waiting. 

I was surrounded by them knowing
ahead of me will be the longest night 
I will ever experience in years, because 
I was determined to stay awake 
for that call.

The echo of the ringer came louder than usual
we heard this message! 
Minutes ago he was wide awake
Minutes ago his heart tore him away
minutes ago his casket was carried astray
minutes ago underground he will lay.
Minutes ago I wished him an endless
goodbye with a sigh.

My friends held me step by step walked
me to bed covered me up stayed until I had 
no more tears to shed. 
Those were my emotions for today. Grieving
over the loss of my young brother. Sadness.

Therese Bacha
2/4/2013                              
Contest of Dan Williams. Primary Emotion Today..
 

Copyright © Therese Bacha | Year Posted 2013


Details | Brother Poem | |

Helga Deen ,1925-1943

Helga Deen  (1925-1943)   (Sentanka)

Mit achtzehn ermordet
Helga Deen im KZ Sobibór
Nur Tagebuch und Briefe

War alles was von ihr blieb
Ihr Andenken aber bleibt 


Murdered at eighteen
Helga Deen at Sobibór 
Only letters and diary

Was all that remained of her
But her memory remains


Helga Deen en Sobibor
Asesinado a dieciocho años
Sólo cartas y un diario

Fue todo lo que quedaba 
Pero su memoria sigue siendo



Note: Helga Deen, born in 1925 in Stettin moved with her parents in 1933 to Tilburg in the
Netherlands. She was a talented young woman not only in writing but also in drawing. Her
mother was a German Jewish doctor and her father-Willy Deen- a Dutch chemist. Helga Denn
had a brother -Klaus- and both visited school in Tilburg. The family had to move from
their house and Helga an her brother had to leave school together with other ten Jewish
pupils. In July 1943 all were deported to the Vugh concentration camp. From there they
were transpoted to Westerbork concentration camp and from there on July 13th  to Sobibór
(Poland) concentration camp. She died from gas there on July 16th 1943.

Copyright © Gert W. Knop | Year Posted 2011


Details | Brother Poem | |

Harry

Subject:  Harry  
From:  Mandy Tams The Golden Girl  
Message: 
To my new brother Harry 
I send these words to you 
We haven’t had long together 
But you know these words are true. 

We shared experiences as children 
Even though an ocean apart 
My love I send as a sister 
The love from a sister’s heart. 

Your heart you gave many years ago 
To your sweet and lovely Lenore 
I pray that she is waiting 
And you get your dreams and more. 

You touched a piece of me 
That I thought was well hid 
With the story of your life 
And to the mire you felt you slid 

But you have loving friends 
That are there to give you love 
And from my heart I thank them 
And I will pray to the heavens above. 

That you will receive what you seek 
All you felt you missed in life 
That you will finally be together 
You and Lenore, your beautiful wife. 
© 20/01/2013 Mandy 

Thank-YOU, so very much. HUGS and Kisses
YOUR Brother...Harry

This POEM was written to me by
Mandy Tams the Golden Girl
        MY SISTER

 
 


Copyright © HGarvey Daniel Esquire | Year Posted 2013


Details | Brother Poem | |

Jess and Mike

"Each experience is locked within my heart and only I hold the key..."



There was a time when Jess was young, that we thought we were going to lose him.
It all started with recurring headaches he would have.  These headaches became more frequent and intense over a few months.  Next, tremors on one side joined the headaches.
Countless trips to the Doctor and days of having to leave work to go to his side at school to help him through the episodes.  I blew a gasket.  I demanded a CAT scan.  I think that the only reason that the Doctor agreed, was to shut me up.  But I knew in my gut, that these were not migraines as diagnosed.
The day of the CAT scan came.  I sat in an area that allowed me to see my son and hear the technicians.  At first, the techs were very chatty among themselves.  Then, stark silence.  As if a tomb door had been shut.  Then the words that still haunt me were said..."Oh shit"  on of the technicians whispered.   I closed my eyes and felt my heart cry out in its pain.

I sat in the Doctors office, waiting for him to come and tell me my son was fine.  That there was an error in the reading of the scan.  
He entered with his nurse, who was carrying a box of tissues and cup of water.
"Your son has an arachnoid cyst.  The left temporal lobe of his brain is not there.  In its place is a fluid filled sack.  The pressure of the filling fluid is causing all the symptoms.  He will need to undergo brain surgery."
I sat there....numb.  All I recall hearing are the words...Brain surgery.
The day of the surgery came.  His younger brother was with me in the waiting room. Too young to understand the gravity of the situation.  All he knew was that his brother was very sick.
Now, I want to take you to our sons Hospital room, post surgery.  
There he was, lying in the big bed.  White as the sheet that covered his small body up to his chest.  His head wrapped in bandages.  Tubes and wires everywhere.
As our son was waking up, his first words were  "Where is my brother?"
Mike flew to the side of his bed and grabbed his hand.  "I'm right here!"  he said.  
Very weakly, Jess was able to say  "I love you Mike."
Mike in turn said, "I love you Jess."
My tears that had never flowed through the whole ordeal finally came.   Not out of fear, but for the love that our sons had for one another.


Paula Swanson
8/20/2011
For the A Fragment Of Life contest
sponsored by Constance La France
Placement:3rd

Copyright © Paula Swanson | Year Posted 2011


Details | Brother Poem | |

An Epic Battle With A Simple Question

A beautiful heart pines from afar. To parallel freedom, we choose our master. In Love, the Dragon and Unicorn are! Celestial winged heart beats faster, Over mountain and ocean meet polar eyes. To parallel freedom, we choose our master. Embarking from sun brewed and moonshine skies Two alien races, in war, collide. Over mountain and ocean meet polar eyes. All brothers' swords raise, marching with pride. Sisters of heaven let feathers fly. Two alien races, in war, collide. The angered clouds rain blood from the sky. A new path finally found. Sisters of heaven let feathers fly. Brothers' swords low now to the ground. A beautiful heart pines from afar. A new path finally found. In Love, the Dragon and Unicorn are! In universe Out bound energy Where are we when we die?

Copyright © Edward McCormick | Year Posted 2013


Details | Brother Poem | |

Black History Month

Why is it called 'Black History Month'
Black means void of light
why because we are nonwhite
this should be voted out
because the name Human Race 
carries more weight
Sure, I understand
it is a way of denouncing the browner skinned man
Why is it there are tanning booths
for the lighter or paler skinned people of the world
they would rather call us 'boy' or 'girl'
Well, the fact remains we are really the majority
who else is given one entire month to give high esteem to for the accomplishments
of the so-called minority
In all actuality every time that you use your dryer thank G.T. Sampson
or stop at a traffic light thank G. Morgan
you are thanking God Almighty for blessing the person who you call 'black' for the ability to create these valuable worthwhile necessities
So, when you hear of someone having an open heart surgery thank the man of the human race with the browner skin for being the first to perform the first one
Ah, the victories we have won
do not frown
do not fret God will get you, yet
to admit that deep in your heart
we all play a part
in the world being 'it takes all kind to make it go around'
no one is better than the next
however, when you get ready to text
think about Mr. H.T. Sampson who invented it for your leisure
pleasure maybe even a luxury
Or when your horse needs a shoe say a silent 'thank you' to J. Ricks
Can we all just get along 
became a catchy realistic reachable phrase from a lighter skinned man who was beaten almost to a bloody  pulp for being a man you called 'black' by those of a different shade of skin
jealousy, hatred, discrimination, alienation, poverty, hunger, envy, degradation and demoralization has been shared even experienced by all race
the Human Race


Copyright © Sandra Dee Wilson | Year Posted 2015


Details | Brother Poem | |

Notice of Love and War

He woke and saw his beloved asleep with one breast partially exposed

And with his fantastic limp he works his way to the kitchen

He made coffee for her with croissant lathered with jam

Gently he pulled at the exposed women and gestures with the tray

Happily she wakes and with great affection reaches for him

Coffee is second and pastries  with jam come close to him

But he is first and the love hits him like the wind

Gently it began and gale force now

He had to lash himself so he wouldn't be swept away

And it grew

She always lay in their position and there was no other

He would mold himself to her and tease her nipple

He came home weathered from the battle and with grief

Friends had been shot by snipers and the heat

He had seen a woman with a basket approach his friend

And she dropped the basket and pulled the belt

The explosion deafened him and his comrade's face is gone

Fragments hit him but he is running to his friend

But the friend lays silent

Gazing to the wetness on his leg he falls

He is deafened and wakes in terror and looks upon the leg

And finding himself in bed she tries to talk with him

But he claim's it's a bad dream and the basket falling

And later...............

The limp was his reminder of that day and he eats the croissant for his friend

Copyright © Patrick Cornwall | Year Posted 2012