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Best Family Poems

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New Family Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Family poems are below this new poems list.

Family on holiday by Timperley, Dave
FAMILY PORTRAIT by LOUW, TSHEDISO
A DEATH IN THE FAMILY by Herrera, Frank
Family Tree by Bennight, Ken
The Home and family by Ihekuna, Chimezie
The Addams Family by Timperley, Dave
My Family Of Fleas And Me by Shaw, Indiana
The Family Spice of Life by hoffman, cheryl
Family Ties by hoffman, cheryl
Island Family by Cutlip, Wesley T

View all new Family Poems

The Best Family Poems

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Where The Sycamore Grew

The sun-yellow house seems smaller, somehow
seeing it now,  with much older eyes...

The street seems narrower, the trees are taller..
Where once open fields spanned both sides of the road
they are building new structures, and fences have bloomed
The neighboring orchards have all but disappeared

But somehow we knew the house would still be there....
Strangely distant, ...yet, still much is the same

There is a newer red tricycle
on the smooth flagstone path
one that we laid on a hot summer day...
in front of this house that lies at the bend
at the end of the road, where the sycamore grew...

As sudden as wind, thirty years fades away, lost in the moment of this crisp autumn day
And quickly alive, memories rise, becoming again the springtime of lives..... 

...our first Christmas trees,..and first anniversaries...
 ...a place where I cried long into the night, the child in me grieving when mother had died...
      ..then long, starry nights, lost in the moonlight, 
           counting my blessings, and holding my babies

Yes....it is all captured there, in the small yellow house

It's funny, I know, but I'm glad they have kept the yellow...
And it still wears the trace of sun, and crisp-white shutters...

The little yellow house, with a flagstone pathway that we laid
that sits beyond the bend, where the old sycamore grew...


                                       _________



Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2009

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Hard Times

When hard times come they sit a spell, Like kin folk come to stay A-packin' troubles, pets an' kids That always get ‘n your way. It's drought an' flood, an' flood an' drought, There ain't much in-between. You work like hell to make ’em good, But still they’re sorta lean. The ranch went under late last year, The drought got mighty tough. The boss held-out a long, long time, But finally said, "enough!" So here I am dispatchin’ cops An’ watchin’ felons sleep, In Junction, at the county jail, A job I’ll prob’ly keep. The wife, she works at Leisure Lodge, Where older people stay, A-makin’ beds an’ moppin’ floors To earn some ‘extra’ pay. Though “extra pay‘s” the term I used, It goes to payin’ rent, An’ after all the bills are paid, We wonder where it went. We hocked my saddle, guns an' chaps, An' then our weddin' rings; Then when we couldn't pay the loan, They sold the 'dad-blamed' things. We felt real bad a day or two But then we let it go, Cause it got Christmas for the kids When money got real slow. When hard times come they sit a spell, Don't matter who you are; They'll cost ya things you've set aside, An' clean your cookie jar. You'll loose some sleep an' worry some, Won't pay to moan an' groan; But hang on to your happiness, They'll finally leave ya 'lone.


Copyright © Jim Fish | Year Posted 2005

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-Unlatched-

_______________________

So young, I was, and so naive There was no doubt, I did believe this babe who's latched inside my womb with ties we had,... would always be Latched on was he, as he was fed then later days, our hands instead Not tall enough to open gates I would reach the latch for his escape In time he grew to need more space The cord we had, still had it's place The loving ties from birth, so long were gently stretching.., moving on, yet still remaining full and strong In time he grew, to be a man Our bond had changed, but still lives on He fell in love, as it should be His bond with her, I'm glad to see doesn't mean our own is gone Songs are sung when lovers part but no song for a mother's heart When new adventures come one day and new roads take him far away The man he is, has been set free to be the man he wants to be The child he was is never gone She's letting go, yet holding on If once, one wish, were mine to choose so many would my thoughts pursue But one within my heart still yearns for just one day, the clocks would turn Together you and I would be sitting there among the trees I would lift you up upon my knee just as we did when you were three…
___________________________________________________________________ For Francine's Contest: Children In Rhyme


Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2011

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She read me Dr Seuss

6:35 A.M.

Sunrise against my neck
that no cheap tan booth could ever match.

I ring the doorbell in anticipation of joy’s injection.

I needed it.

Because I left my cell phone in the car,
as I didn’t want to hear any chimed email
or text annoyances.

And the car just got cleaned,
only for the birds to have their way
on its waxy shine.

Bastards!

Time to grab the flamethrower from my trunk!

But, before I could scream in Braveheart declaration,
there she was.

Her 6 yr old smile,
made of 1/4 inch gaps between innocence enamel,
captured me like no other could.

“Tio”, she preached in angelica sonata.

As she held me,
held me,
with puppy love warmth.

Even the rainbows fell to its knees.

She took off my jacket with ferret-like perkiness and
asked me to sit on the floor with her.

But, not before offering to toast me some Eggo waffles
with a big glass of Ovaltine…
…in her Little Mermaid glass,
proudly made in North Korea.

It even had the dictator’s initials and a bucktooth smiley face stamp, signed in glitter
that said:
“Kid-safe”.

Thank God I just took my online course in Child Safety.
I was ready!

As I sip on Little Mermaid’s curves,
shaped in plastic, swirly straw weirdness,
a sound blasts off from a Barbie radio.

My 2 yr old angel galloped into this heart of mine,
with Tinnitus piercing scream & laughter,
tackling me in Incredible Hulk lunge.

“Hi Tio”, she whispered, before she hopped back upstairs, 
Ninja Turtle-style,
laughing maniacally with rapid head tilts, left to right to left.

Boys will fear her. 
And I couldn’t be more proud.

After two moments of silence, 
my 6 yr old angel places her Dr. Seuss book on my lap,
as she sits in front of me.

“I can r-r-read
with my eye-s
shut.”

She carefully completed the sentence,
as my eyes instantly fill with leaky pride
and an ingrained smile.

10 minutes later, she shut her book and asked me how she did.
“I am so proud of you my angel.”
“You have come so far.”

I had to hold back tears because I didn’t want to throw her off.
Yet I think she knew,
because she kept her head down and smiled with gentle starburst.

Mission accomplished.

And it was then where I heard her say,
“Those who matter don’t mind,
those who mind don’t matter.”

But she was quiet, looking at me with tilted head & smile.

For it was my inner child, 
speaking
clear.

© Drake J. Eszes


Copyright © Drake Eszes | Year Posted 2011

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The Old House

Seven generations walked through your door,
Which stood so strong and always welcomed in.
You said goodbye when boys headed to war,
Two soldiers lost to battles they can’t win.

Your kitchen always busy as a bee,
With canning, baking apple crumble cake.
Stone hearth, a place for warmth and drink some tea,
The table decked with riches to partake.

The living room a place to sit and chat,
With pictures hanging for one hundred years.
A chair still there where ancestors once sat,
This room for laughter and at times for tears.

Your nursery where many babies grew,
With bassinet where ev’ry child did lie.
The paint would change at times from pink to blue,
A place where time would always quickly fly.

The floors within have felt each child’s first walk,
Their worn out wood drowned many times with stain.
You watched the aging people gently rock,
You’ve heard and felt the tapping of a cane.

I stand and listen in your sacred halls
And feel that you’re a part of everyone.
Each breath we took embedded in your walls,
Of fathers, mothers, daughters and of sons.

Old house of stone your warmth embraces me,
Your children now all scattered far and wide.
You still stand proud for all the world to see,
The thoughts of you, sweet memories inside.

The house my children grew up in.

Iambic Pentameter  
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 
10.02.2014
Giorgio’s Contest: Iambic Verse III
2nd
Best of 2014  1st place


Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2014

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Things That Seemed Poetic

Things that seemed poetic were always sad,
though I yearned for sparkle
and my dad's guffaw, which never came.
Familiar things were always drear --
repeated motions in the same old game.
There were only distant glimpses
of budding spring, fleeting views
of daffodils. The strongest
poems dealt me death and dying.
Yet I always hoped, never went under
to gray despair, always dreaming
of a garden of love that we could share.
But those forbidden delights faded
quickly away; the only reality
I understand is the ever-looming
and final one. Nothing's changed.
The strongest poems deal death and dying.


Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore | Year Posted 2011

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Loving Helena

The chair is her home, her universe now
It is all that her many years will allow
Helena’s elegant beauty once shone
Now her mind wanders a world of its own

Age has changed her body but not her heart
Many great stories she’d always impart
To the wide-eyed grandchild she admired so
A girl who has loved her since long ago

Tales of black velvet gowns in which she’d dance
Soft moonlit beaches where she found romance
Economic hardships that came to pass
The rise and the fall of each social class

Her hands and face are now weathered with age
Accounts of the past still flow from this sage
And though some repeat again and again
I still listen now, just as I did then

I’ve memorized these tales, her gifts to me
And always I’ll remain her devotee
It matters not that my name escapes her
Love from her eyes she can always confer

Grandma brushes fingers across my face
And whispers, “Beautiful,” as we embrace
Though I miss years when she knew me so well
I know in the past her memories dwell

My love for her lingers, it always will
I take comfort knowing she loves me still


Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2010

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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 © kabuteng P.iNk k. | Year Posted 2011

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She Lived in the Moment

Six feet tall, feisty and tipping the scales Aunt Eva approached life so playfully Living in the moment, not fretting details Even at 80 no harsh wrinkles had she Just a few laugh lines from a life filled with joy She couldn’t budget, her spending was free Her brother (my father) was a CPA It seemed he was forever bailing her out When living expenses she couldn’t pay Her gifts to others were funny as well A used Bruce Springsteen shirt she bought for me It was stained, too small and had a strange smell This aging widow had young men calling She was their dance queen and rocked all night long Some may have found her youthful dance dates appalling Last time I saw her, she stood in the street Grinning and waving, as we drove away I watched her fade from view from the car’s back seat A lesson can be learned from Eva’s lifestyle She needed no money to make her happy Just hugs and kind words helped preserve her smile
*Written by Carolyn Devonshire on October 26, 2014, for Guatami Phookan’s “Sketch a Character” contest


Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2014

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Hear Oh L-rd

The Festival of Lights, Chanukah has arrived
a hopeful time of praise each year revived. 
The Menorah lit, each home becomes a church.
Blessed are You, L-rd our G-d, King of the universe.

Our sister Miriam lights the shamash taper first 
a maiden fair and scholarly her prayers rehearsed
to bring together all that's beautiful, diverse.
Blessed are You, L-rd our G-d, King of the universe.

Eight nights we praise the L-rd for gifting us with Light
and pass around small things which bring delight. 
We rejoice. In brotherhood we are immersed.
Blessed are You, L-rd our G-d, King of the universe.

May G-d in his greatness light all your days
May family, friends, and foes mend their ways 
for all have needs, let kindness tame their thirsts
Blessed are You, L-rd our G-d, King of the universe.


*Bo-ruch A-toh Ado-noi E-lo-hei-nu Me-lech Ho-olom A-sher Ki-de-sho-nu Be-mitz-vo-sov Ve-tzi-vo-nu Le-had-lik Ner Shel Cha-nu-kah. 
* Blessed are You, L-rd our G-d, King of the universe, who has sanctified us by His commandments, and has commanded us to kindle the lights of Chanukah. 


Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2012

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She Calls Me Home

She Calls Me Home…

At days long end
Left on troubles shore
When I just know
I can't take anymore
When the last light
Of hope is gone

She calls me home
She calls me home

When my thoughts
Are racing round
And I can't find
A friend in this town
When every door
Has turned out wrong

She calls me home
She calls me home

She calls me home
To her embrace
Wipes the tears
From my tortured face

Calms my soul
Til the demons are gone
And with her sweet voice
She calls me home

When the dark
Won't give up light
When the wrong
Outscores the right
When the noise
Outdoes the song

She calls me home
She calls me home

When the clouds
Won't seem to break
And the sky
Just seems to ache
And the sun's
Completely gone

She calls me home
She calls me home

She calls me home
To her embrace
Wipes the tears
From my tortured face

Calms my soul
Til the demons are gone
And with her sweet voice
She calls me home


Copyright © James Burns | Year Posted 2012

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Letting Go

Their lives begin, that special day
Your hardest job, is on the way.
Walking and pacing, all night long
Knowing that one day, they’ll be strong.

Watching them crawl, then walk and run
Treasure each moment, share their fun.
They grow so fast, enjoy each day
For sometime soon, they’ll move away.

Years of school, sometimes they will drag
We’re filled with pride, we parents brag.
Teaching our kids, always be kind
Lasting friendships, many will find.

Do as I say, not as I do
We all have said, our parents too.
The truth comes out, don’t cheat or lie
Don’t try and skimp, to just get by.

Take the right path, we try to guide
Sometimes they don’t, we let it slide.
Knowing they must, find their own way
Life is tough, on track they must stay.

Bumps in the road, many will hit
We as parents, just have to sit.
Learn from mistakes, it takes its’ toll
Their independence, that’s our goal.

The hardest part, is yet to come
When high school years, are said and done.
We’ve done our jobs, as best we could
We must let go, or so we should.

Give them their wings, and let them fly
As we sit back, and often cry.
Turning the page, is hard to do
Wondering if, they listened to you.

Reach for the stars, follow your dreams
It takes time, forever it seems.
Your heart will break, can’t let it show
It’s so difficult, letting go.


Copyright © Kelly Zakerski | Year Posted 2009

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A Greener Grass

You think I have a pretty face My dresses weaved from frills and lace You think that I'm a spoilt brat with diamonds around my neck and roses in my bed You think I own the pot of gold A blissful future to behold You think I live on a greener grass but you know nothing No ,you know nothing about my past There are chapters still on hold A thousand words untold There's emotion still enclosed in a lacrimal drop There is a tasteless tale,a colourless spume and large waves that fall on the shore There's a silent cry which keeps yelling why which keeps loving and hating,mending and breaking Pushing ,embracing our God My unfaithful devotion keeps begging in motion Asking what,where,when,and how long For how long should I wait for to feel the affection, love and protection to listen to daddy singing for me just one birthday song For how long should I pray for,to listen to daddy just calling out my name on the phone You think I have a pretty face My dresses weaved from frills and lace You think that I'm a spoilt brat with diamonds around my neck and roses in my bed You think I own the pot of gold A blissful future to behold You think I live on a greener grass but you know nothing No, you know nothing about my past You know nothing about the way I feel About deep scars that would never heal You just keep thinking that I live I live on a greener grass.


Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2015

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The Woman

See the woman.

See the face behind its age.
See the beauty of her form.
See the way her way becomes her.
See past her once taught skin, as it was 
when it enflamed many a man.

See the way she holds her head;
the tilt of her neck, the ease
of her being.
See the strength that binds her jaw,
unrelenting in its flex.

See her hurt displayed, as shadows
fall like night upon the earth,
eager for rest and resolution -
retribution,
for the one she could not save.

See her darkness. See it very well.
See it shatter like glass, glinting,
when she giggles like a girl.
See her shine.
As the shades of dark days rise,

See the years that grace her eyes,
like rays of her own sun
exponentially shining forth.
See forgiveness in her patient hands
as they weave memories with a touch.

See the breadth of her breasts,
unapologetic,
for they have quenched her children’s hunger,
soothed their frantic cries,
and became the safe haven for her beloved.

See her empty, scarred abdomen –
round and perfect in its imperfections,
once holding the essence of all things;
carrying creation within –
see the divine home of God.

See the innocent baby,
the impetuous youth,
the voluptuous woman,
the devoted wife,
the selfless mother.

See the wisdom of the grandmother –
the epitome of every moment lived
for someone else, and the realization 
of the circle.
Hear the acceptance in her sigh.
See the gifts she has given –

see the woman!
See the goddess!
The beginning and the end!
See the infinite that bares the name,
Woman!

See her for all that she is and isn’t.
Smell her scent and know you are home.
Taste the strength of her words on your tongue.
Hear her experiences like your own.
To touch her soul is to touch perpetuity!

See her face in your mirror.

See the tears that fall proudly
upon the woman you’ve become,
and hope yet to become
                          in time;

when you have lived through all that has been 
set before you –
tasted each woman’s tears as if they were your own.
When you enter that perfect union,
timeless ancestry;
when you become,
when you come
full circle;

you will see yourself in all things, 
and your journey, will see you back

home.



*Reposted for Chris's Get Your Rebel On, Contest! This was written with my Beautiful 
Grandmother in mind. She saved my life in more ways than one. love you, Gran. This one's 
for you. (and every woman, and woman lover, here)


Copyright © Kristin Reynolds | Year Posted 2009

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Like a Rock

I carry my mother 
like a rock in my pocket 

that I just can’t seem to throw away 

It serves me 
no purpose, 
it just weighs me down 

~~~
 
When I first found it, 
when I first picked it up 
and started carrying it with me, 

I thought it so beautiful – 
I could look at it for hours 

But, like my mother, 
it never looked back at me, 
never grew warm under my loving gaze 

For the longest, I was blind to that, 
Blind to anything but the beauty, 
blind to the cold, hard, 
beyond-remote nature of the rock,
of my mother,
my stone

~~~

I carry my mother,
a thought without weight

And she’s heavier

and she’s colder

than all the stones
there are

~~~
 
By the time I recognized her 
immutable, emotional unavailability, 
I had run out of joy,
felt depleted of hope –

But I could not,
for the life of me,
stop seeking a beauty, a warmth,
inside her heart

Could not stop
wishing
that one day this stone,
my mother,
deep inside my pocket,

Might just become
its own opposite –

Change from hard to fluid,
from cold to warm

But my rock, my hard burden,
will only turn to water

When my mother
stops being
a stone


Copyright © Rev. Rebecca Guile Hudson | Year Posted 2005

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I must Carpe Diem

I used to live life full of dreams 
Planning, for many years to come.
Where I will be, when I will go,
A future that was filled with fun.

Till the day my life was shattered.
Till the day when the hammer struck.
All my dreams now torn asunder 
Nowhere to hide, nowhere to duck.

I stood my battles, fought the fight 
We gathered and said our goodbyes,
Yet through all of your brave faces,
I could still hear the silent cries.

Last Will and Testament written,
Everything important was said,
“I love you,” still that magic word,
I’d sleep in peace tucked in my bed.

Then something magical happened,
I came back from places of dread.
Now more a part of the living,
Each day I get stronger instead.

Now I know what’s most important
Enjoy precious moments each day,
Learned not to live for tomorrows
That just might not come anyway.

I enjoy each sip of coffee,
Watching leaves turn colours and fly,
Kisses from my sweet little dog,
Every time I see a blue sky.

The music of my Children’s voices,
Love of family never ends,
Carpe Diem, just seize the day,
That is my new motto my friends.


Written 10.25.2014
For Regina Riddle’s Contest 
Seize the Moment (Carpe Diem)
5th

James 5:15
And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise them up.

Living for the moment makes everything more special.


Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2014

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- SWEET DANCE -


                                               Dance with me
                                I have borrowed mum`s summer hat
                            Dressed up with lipstick and pearl necklace
                    The good smell....do not say it but it`s mum`s perfume
                          The high heel red shoes are mum`s and they fits
                         me almost I`m nearly four years old and a big girl
                                   I have dressed up so nice just for you
                         Dance with me dad, I`m your little princess tonight













27.03.2012
A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved


Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2012

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It's hard to say

No
A small little word
And yet so hard to say
It tempts me to say
Maybe
Maybe I can make it work
I so desperately want to say yes
It hurts
Crushes me
To see you disappointed
Those times when I have no time
When I am stretched to the limit
Commitments 
Piled
One on top of the other
The important less important things in my life
When I have no energy
No extra to give
No way of knowing if I'm making a mistake
I say no to give myself a break
Some space to breathe

Sometimes no
Is meant to protect
No you can't go
To that party
Spend time with that girl
Hang out with that guy
No I won't change my mind
Even though I have to be the bad guy
No is a declaration
That I care for you
I want only the best
I want no harm to come to you
No is a tool I use to strengthen you
No you can't quit
You must finish what you start
There is no better feeling
Than seeing you succeed 
Those times I said 
"No, you can do it on your own."
Even though I desperately wanted to help
No meant I trusted and believed in you
You can do more than you think you can
No one is more proud of you

I wish you to know
The power of no
When it comes to a girl
No really does mean no
When you are put in an awkward place
You don't have to say yes
Choose your no wisely
No I don't want to go
No I don't want another drink
No I have somewhere else to be
No I will not let you treat her that way
No you cannot cross that line
No I deserve better than that
Yes, no is a small little word
It can change your path
Give you time to breathe
No, opens up possibilities
To choose
The yes
That is right for you
Yes or no
I believe you will choose wisely
Even though no
Can be a hard word to say






Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2014

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Mr. Truly Amazing

Sixteen years old and in a world of her own
Confined to life lived in a wheelchair
Ever since birth, doctors don’t know what went wrong
But, it was like no one was at home in there

One summer vacation with the other kids in tow
The family visited a Kentucky horse stable
They left her alone in a sunny grass meadow
While off riding with the children who were able

While sitting alone in a catatonic state
Staring out somewhere in space
A gelding that was grazing, Mr. Truly Amazing
Came up and licked her on the face

The family returned to a shocking surprise
Seeing the wheelchair left unoccupied
They looked all around, then couldn’t believe their eyes
When they saw her standing with a horse by her side

She was petting his nose, feeding him an apple
And seemed to be whispering something
They were frozen in their tracks not believing the fact
That their Jenny was no longer a nothing

The mother walked up, in a delicate manner
Not wanting to interrupt this miracle’s course
When Jenny turned to her and in a shallow voice
Whispered, “Look, Mommy, I have a horse”


Copyright © Joe Flach | Year Posted 2010

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High Bred Reality

     Soul progress
     back field in motion
The guff
     Chose, chose, live grow leave!  GO!

Leapt from heaven's gold
Jump started into a human mold

    White clapboard poverty with tiger lily blooms,
blueberry rake poverty woolen looms.

Riffs of Emerson, Whitman, Longfellow dawns,
mothers’ hazel eyes, father Davidesque form,
chosen to drive twixt a Jew and a screw.
          Magnet of lunacy...
Tumbled like an agate into the stream of life
part of the dream lesson
scream      lesson

Abuser of power, one who had once roared,
 Eve shaped now, weak and mewling
                 between the weeds of woe.
Care taken by lovers torn.
          Watched over by pedophile uncles.
Befriended by lewd Father of sons.
Adult child, searching amongst the Word
for the Word is God           and GOD …
       There are so many   words
    
Root ripped scenes from beauty to horror
Shiksa* taunts seep in with the smell of borsch. 
 A pumpkinseed amongst the pricks of Brooklyn
A wild rose planted in the asphalt soil 
     Doo-wop      ditty
Jew’s bop to a Dago harmony,
bagels, bialys and the French twisted strands 
of great grandma’s hair.
          Clipped, stripped of family shoved whole 
into yet another new mold.
      True believers,  ah yes,      fanatics all.
The struggle to survive whole healthy
dipped in, dripped in, a bath of acid and  thorazine. 
Polish priests pedal platitudes to the sisters of St. Joseph 
behind the gilded glory of the Church.

Raped by trust and betrayed by lovers,
a rose married to a prickles thorn,
so empathy is gained, and a healer born.
              Metal must be formed in a crucible of fire 
A healer can not be born without tasting the pyre.




Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2011

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Christmas Miracle in the Ghetto (Co-written with John Moses Freeman)

Peering at the radiating faces of happy families
So much joy emanates from well-to-do children’s sparkling eyes
Wish I could replace the grief, put smiles on the faces of my sons
Without a glimmer of hope even promises of warm meals would be lies

In the brown eyes of my sons, the same eyes their mother, my wife
Sadness the sacrifice, a courageous mother giving life
So great a zest for life she sacrificed to give her sons life
But now greed hath put her seed in peril and my world in strife

No “Help Wanted” signs in the windows of Main Street’s bustling stores
The aroma of fresh bread wafts tauntingly from the bakery
With my hands in pockets, finding not even loose change
Overcome with hunger and jealousy, should I resort to thievery? 

Mind reeling, contemplating abating moral principals
Suddenly appear familiar brown eyes amid face so dear
The image of deceased wife, Spanish born eyes filled with tears
Speaking, "Abe, the Lord is gracious, walk until head is clear"

I follow the light in her warm eyes reflecting in glass windows
They lead me down the road to a park at the end of town
Dressed in ragged clothing, a man sits with a smile of peace
Breathing white puffs in frigid air, this gentle soul sees my frown

The message is plain, as my fears begin to clear
There is a greater depth in a soul of love well kept
The night is far spent; I kissed the hand of this gentle man
He smiled sweetly and said, "Lift up heavy head from dread"
 
I look up to see sun glistening on snow-laden pine boughs
It’s here, Christmas Day, and I’ve left my children alone all night
An ache in my heart compels me to race quickly back through town
Breathlessly, I reach my porch unprepared for a welcome sight
 
Hearing laughter within, I smell, yams, turkey and ham
I open my door, on the floor, presents piled high as well
Laughing with glee, sons kiss me, sparkle of brown eyes I see
Sparkling brown eyes, of Spanish descent, love is evident
 
“From where in the world did all this come,” I ask my sons
“Beautiful lady with Spanish brown eyes, stopped at our door
She said a strange thing, as on the floor our gifts were lain,
‘Tell Abe keep the faith; a mother's love is stronger than the grave.’
Her hugs and kisses, will be greatly missed!  Who was she, Daddy?"


Thank you, Moses, for joining me and guiding me in this write.  Merry Christmas, dear 
friends!


Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2009

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Memories on Branches

Memories on branches live on and on - multiplying since the world’s first dawn. Fresh and beautiful in spring are we - buds that blossom on our family tree. We all need a place to build upon. Memories on branches will still live on even though - like summer birds - one day we may leave our nest and fly away. Busy we may be, but in the fall, we’ll look back and tenderly recall memories on branches have still lived on - bright like leaves that decorate our lawn. Winter’s snow covers us as we grow frail. Yet through our posterity, we know well what we’ve lived through never will be gone. Memories on branches live on and on. For the Memories Poetry Contest of Nayda Ivette Negron


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2014

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Yesterday's Joys

The Old Refrain

Where have they gone, the simple days of old?
Though filled with toil, their melody was sweet—
A blending of the common joys that hold
That special place in memory's retreat:
Warm home fires burning, families gathered close,
The day chores done, the evening shared with zest,
That tranquil peace that hovered to disclose
Life's humble ways and means were surely best.

But now the complex song of modern man
So filled with discord drowning out the good
Of basic joys inherent in life's plan,
Makes happiness a gift misunderstood.

And why must progress hush the old refrain
To play this frantic tune we so disdain?

© Sandra M. Haight 2014 
   All Rights Reserved

~4th Place~
Contest: Pick a Title: Yesterday’s Joys
Sponsor: Isaiah Zerbst


Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2014

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the worm poem

A Certain Kind Of Death 

She was in love 
Their expression of it 
Was the perfection of it 
The way they shared  
Was beyond compare
Today is the culmination 
Of their dedication 
Today she is pregnant 
Overwhelmed overjoyed
Her heart sings 
Then the phone rings 

At the hospital 
Next to her dead husband 
How is the possible 
Why did this happen 
Grief stricken
But not heartbroken 
She still had a piece of him 
She had to be strong 
For their child
Even though he was gone 
She had to march on 

Pain and spot bleeding
Getting ready for birthing 
No rhyme or reason 
For complication 
She took care of her body
Took care of her baby 
Its two months too soon
For the child to leave the womb 
Lacking strength and power 
It only lived an hour 
She could only scream  

No strength to go through the motions
She hasn’t seen family or friends
Trying to find something within
nothing left to give 
No reason to live 
she is dead inside
Her memories fading away
She’s doesn’t want to lose them
Tries to hold on to them 
She racks her brain all day 
Trying to find a way 
To keep them fresh and vibrant 

It came to her at a convenience store
A fisherman was buying some worms
She saw them wiggling 
Saw them moving 
So she bought all they had  
She knew she had gone mad
But she didn’t want to be alone
Lying in her bed 
Longing for the dead 
She put the worms in her womb 
And pretended her baby was alive

Her days where filled with joy 
They where going to have a boy
Her husband would stay home
He could finally feel it kick and move 
His happiness was there only wish
They would love and cherish 
Every moment of everyday 
A happy family 
For everyone to envy 
She wasn’t alone anymore  
She was no longer ripped and torn 

Her evenings were horrifying 
She wasn’t just taking worms out
She was reliving her baby dying 
She never once heard it crying 
Never got to hold it in her arms 
Failed to keep it from harm 
She was useless 
She was helpless
She should have died too 
She should have kept inside her
Even if it had killed her 

She decided one day 
To keep her baby 
Decided not let the doctors take it away
She started to feel some pain 
She decided on a name 
She can barely move now 
She would keep David safe somehow
She’s constantly bleeding and convulsing 
She can feel his life pulsating 
She gave birth before she died 
And David was the only one that cried


Copyright © Nate D. | Year Posted 2010

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Giggles and Splashes

I had waited for you seemingly forever
So long did it take before you were to come into my life
But in so many ways you had always been there

Your hair so white more than once people 
Said that you glowed
Your eyes blue gray 
Soft but piercing. 

In the spring we’d plant flowers and you quite the digger
Would never tire of ‘replanting’ oh the control God blessed 
Me with that summer

On the porch we would swing and sing until my throat would be sore
And still Id manage one more
Lavender Blue, You Are My Sunshine, Red River Valley
I can still hear the wee small voice

In the summer under the big maple the front walk
Would flood and we’d run back and forth barefooted and splashing
Your face, pure joy, your eyes animated, your smile so wide
And those cheeks I could tweak them right now
Is there any better sound than giggles and splashes

Autumn we would take long walks and picnics down in the woods
And sit on a fallen tree. We’d find ants and worms and spiders and rescue the most
Precious of treasures. Feathers, milkweed fuzz, acorns, so much
Bounty for the taking. We’d bring them home and glue them
On paper or cardboard or make touch books

Winter oh please let’s have snow for winter. Snowmen
And snow forts, snow balls and mmmm snow cream. 
I remember the look on your face at your first bite as
If you had just made magic. 

We read books by the fire, books and more books
Then you would touch my lips and ask me to 
Read one with my mouth, which meant to make
Up one just for you.

You have been blessed with intelligence
You have an uncanny ability to fix things 
You’ve never seen before
Your sense of humor can put me away
Until I beg you to stop
You have a sense of logic beyond your years
You will sit on the floor for hours and build block towers for babies
Most importantly my son
You have been blessed for an unquenchable thirst for God’s own heart

At eighteen our time together will be changing but sitting here
I remember the words from a book we used to sing to each other

“I’ll love you forever 
I’ll like you for always
As long as I’m living 
My baby you’ll be"

To Noah


Copyright © Laurie Ginn | Year Posted 2009