Poem | |
Passing through framed windows like ours,
I recall your tales of reckless war and lost friends
that burned your innocence at 21... and though
you claimed flashes of courage, moist eyes
poured vulnerability looking calm, undaunted.
We both searched deeply into our souls
as a father is to his young daughter, that I wanted
to let you know, it was alright;
but that mound of shoulders turned away.
Down the years as officer and gentleman,
Time stole long weeks, absent from your dining chair,
leaving me resentful and bitter on hardened sills
until you arrive under crawling dock of stars.
But in free moments, how you cherished
me so; waking my cheeks at 3 am to race the winds,
to fly with a shooting neon, laughing with a blue moon.
You spoke of faith and honor if life dared a shame, oh
mild scent of your arms cuddling my girlish dreams...
until off you rode suddenly on heaven’s wheel.
I see you through all framed windows like ours,
that even if my iced breaths needed you more
as small flowers thirsted for rain, my anger was a cry
for love’s company... “ I have adored you
in moments of distance and nearness, if not
always, then for all eternity.”
Have I forgotten to open this, my soft, broken sigh?
Dad, everything is all right.
The Confessional Contest
Poem | |
back field in motion
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
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
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.
Poem | |
There was change, a new pulse, cadence, rhythm and tone,
where mother had been, the only place I had known
Where two maples stretched out, to cradle my dreams,
and shelter my life, in the house I called home
On a make-shift bed, I was lying awake,
Windows cracked open,
a wind coming in, ....
Intangible nights, in the familiar old room,
alone with my thoughts, while sorting out things...
There was a strange, jaundice glow, from the porch light, left on,
and my pillow felt cold, where the moon used to go
The sound of a moth, batting wings against glass,
was begging for warmth, while seeking to ask, a place that made sense
And a place to fit in
My father was sleeping, with his newlywed bride
in the same sacred bed, where my mother had died
And a new child was dreaming in the soft yellow room
where I spent all those nights, ... just me and the moon
I was happy for him, and for the child that he gained.
I was there at his side,
when the changes became.. a part of his life, ...... a part of mine too
But, I was lost in the amber, like a moth batting wings
Somehow, it's alright, now, where shadows are new.
As the sepia light, has changed and renewed
I am older, and stronger,
much older than then,...
still a moth seeking flame...
batting my wings,
resisting the change, ....again, and again
For Craig Cornish's Contest: "Chopped II"
Poem | |
*GRANDMA WAITS IN THE GARDEN*
Hi grandpa it's me again!
Your dentures sit in an open glass
Do you remember the tears grandma sang before she passed?
The way she looked into your eyes,
Moments before she said her goodbyes
Grandpa, I found a note from grandma, she doesn't want you to cry.
Hi grandpa, it’s me again!
The rocking chair is old and dusty
Do you remember the way grandma sat me on her lap?
Read many stories before I took a nap
How she enjoyed brushing my hair with her hands
Love the way she rocked me to sleep every night until I grew.
I stored your hearing aid away
Do you remember that special musical box in grandma's drawer?
I opened it last night, to watch the ballerina dance
I wish you could hear the tiny chimes grandma lived in
I hope you don’t mind, I’m keeping grandmothers favorite scarf.
I'm caressing grandma’s picture frame
Do you like the way she looked in that pretty sundress?
Grandpa, I miss the things grandmother did for you
I like the walking stick she handcrafted, the day your needed support
It kept you in balance every time we took long hikes in the woods.
Hello grandpa, it's me again!
Here I sit holding your hand
I have no more tears
Soon you will see grandma
Please tell her hi, and I know you will be there the day I die
Give grandma a kiss, and tell her I miss her
Poem | |
You ripped me
One word at a time
Shredded my smile
Pulled at my sensitivity
I was never strong enough
To pull back my paper heart
You took the pieces of me
Arranged them in your perfect order
I prayed for the wind to come
Hoping I would be carried away
Flutter to a new more loving home
Instead, I endured your paper cuts
I became your paper mâché
Shaped into the image of you
Glued with your inconsistancies
Coated in your endless smoke
Sarcasm and beer
I marinated in your endless tears
You painted me with a retarded label
Your stupid failure of a son
Forced to endure that brush
It was with your eyes I learned to see
Everyone else was better than me
I was a failure times three
My inside empty
I became light as air
As time went on I ceased to care
It happend slowly you weren't aware
Until one day I floated past your stare
No longer raw and bare
I clawed and ripped
Rewrote my page
coming of age
Not your puppet on a stage
Contorted by your rage
I have lost you to your death
The air much clearer, still I feel your breath
Within my doubts your lies still hide
Yet within me a new strength resides
Your image of me no longer applies
Doubt and fear reduced in size
No longer your "DUMMY"
On faith I rise
For Charlotte's contest, heart and soul confessional.
Written, September 1st 2014.
Poem | |
Cleaning out my refrigerator, an ice cube slides to the floor
startling the cat, and interrupting a locomotive of thought
that often tracks me down in a beam of light---
Today it streams through a window, where everything seems marred,
by doubt, and dust, crusts of ice and sticky jello spilled on a glassy shelf.
Oh, not the first time, this revelation of light,
I've had it before while kneeling on the floor as I do now,
and many times that I've knelt on a floor,
to clean up my messes,...
praying for help, praying for light, praying for forgiveness...
and now on the floor to sponge up melting ice, water and tears
Raising a young family...a life so demanding...
Caring and nursing...two sides of the coin...
My father and children....my husband caught between...
It wasn't the impossible...but was never enough...
The time took a toll....why did it seem cold....as cold as the ice?
Could I have held out?.... Could I have been stronger?...
A little while longer....
I shiver with memory,... or is it guilt, and regret? Regret, perhaps shame?
Is it only the chill of the open fridge door?
Or is it more?... So much more?
Hmm, interesting metaphor, "a open door"..........
did I leave it open long enough,... wide enough?
Did I do all I could? All I should ? Was I patient enough? Was I all I could be?
Was I tough enough to watch someone linger,
lingering on, I ponder it now...
Difficult years......but a fraction of life, is how it appears,....
Now looking back.... black fades to gray..
but it comes back in spades, to haunt me today
A little while longer.....
I could have been stronger....
Poem | |
In-between sleep and wakefulness,
when my dream still lingers,
entwining free-flown fingers
with the morning rays, dancing across my eyelids.
It is in this state of in-between layers
that my inner-eye blinks its prayers,
and I can move backwards
through all of my many memories
until about the age of three -
the time when my imagination was truly free.
When I was three,
there wasn't one God for me to believe in.
There were thousands of Gods and Goddesses
hiding inside of each and every living thing:
Deities in the woods and wind.
Deities hiding beneath the surface
of our goldfish pond,
water nymphs kissing the feet
of the Lady in the lake.
One of my most vivid memories as a toddler,
was the day I caught a huge, black cricket.
My Father seemed shocked at the size of my catch,
punched holes into the lid of a mason jar
for me to keep the cricket inside of.
He had never seen such an enormous cricket before.
I was so proud.
I remember looking into its mysterious eyes,
believing for some strange reason,
that a loved one, was now inside of this creature.
Such strange thoughts for a three year-old to have.
But at the time, I truly believed in this.
This was sort of my first inner awakening.
My inner-eye was beginning to speye.
The first night with my cricket,
I listened to its hypnotic song,
and realized it sounded similar to the music
that the old Chinese lady listened to, down the street.
This was sort of my second inner awakening.
I didn't know about the Dao back then;
or maybe I just didn't know the labels?
But I did know how I was altering the destiny
of this creature....altering my own being.
The next day, my Father made me release the cricket.
He did not want it to die,
for it was the biggest cricket he had ever seen.
That was still the most proud I had ever been.
Reluctantly, I opened the jar,
waited an eternity for the escape.
That night I swore that I could hear
a distinct "Chiiiiiiirrrrrup" much louder than the rest.
This was sort of my third inner awakening -
my inner-eye, beginning to speye....
....just as I am awakening now,
the morning rays dancing across my eyelids.
Poem | |
Friends who are so far apart
find it difficult to help when the
sweetest, gentlest people are in need.
How we of open hearts wish we were near:
to hug, and smile and tell our Catie-Did we care.
How we too are quite alone and wish
she’d write to us. How long the nights are
and the days. When all we’d wish for is a
sunny smile like Catie’s to brighten the gray.
Catie’s cards and phone call and general helping ways
have been the source of comfort to so many
even those far, far, away.
It takes a special person, never to taunt back
to those who are so weak of soul, they only
can attack. Catie cares in a Christian way
she turns the other cheek.
She’s full of words of poetry
but we’ve only seen a peek.
I pray she has more sunny days
I’ll do it right away.
Love YOU Catie Did
Poem | |
Daddy will you hold me and
Tell me I’ll be okay?
Will you whisper in my ear
All the things you used to say
Will you squeeze me tight,
And call me your little girl?
Daddy will you make me laugh
And still give me the world?
Daddy just hold me close,
Please never let me drop
Keep me under your wing,
And please never ever stop
Daddy please I’m hurt
Don’t you see me lying here
Come back and make it all okay
Please come chase away this fear
Daddy hold me close to you
I want to feel your heart
Say you’ll never ever let me go
And never say we’ll part
Tears streaming down my face
Daddy please come here
I need you more than ever now
Daddy please just hold me near
Hold me tightly in your arms
I’m begging, “please don’t let go”
I still need you Daddy
I just thought you’d like to know
Daddy please I want you
Can’t you see me cryin’?
Look daddy way down here
Your little girl is dyin’
Daddy please I’m falling now
Wont you hold me tighter?
This monster is pulling me down
Please make this burden lighter
Daddy please come help me
Can’t you hear me screaming?
Don’t leave me here now
With my tears still falling, streaming
Why don’t you look at me?
Daddy please I’m scared
You saved all the other ones
Why wont MY soul be spared
Daddy please come back
In my heart I miss you
Just comfort me Daddy please
With all the things you used too
Daddy please I miss you
And I’m at my last resort
I’m sorry, but I can’t go on
This is my sad report
Your little girl is missing
Please tell me that you see.
Why don’t you put to rest,
This pain that’s running through me
All I want is you Daddy
So please come just take me home
All I want is you Daddy
I’m so tired of being alone
Daddy why won’t you look at me
Why don’t you care?
Why did you kiss the rest?
But me you did not dare
Daddy hold me close and
Call me your little girl
Tell me it will be okay and
That you’ll still give me the world
Tell me that you love me
Just tell me that you do
And whisper in my ear
All the things you used to
Daddy please hold me closer
I’m starting to slip through
Just please don’t let me go
I can’t do all this without you
Look into my eyes and
Tell me what you see
Tell me that you care and
Still want to set me free
Daddy will you hold me
And catch all of my tears
Daddy will you help me and
Chase all of my fears
Poem | |
I saw a burial with a bugler playing taps;
I turned to my father, “what happened?” I asked.
He clutched my hand and with a quiver in his voice,
he began to explain and his eyes became moist.
“My son,” he said, “this is rather difficult for me;
for an old veteran like myself this is tough to see.
In that coffin lies a genuine patriotic warrior,
an honest-to-God hero, an American soldier.
I appreciate that soldier and the service he gave,
and I honor his sacrifice as he’s laid in his grave.
He was honorable, selfless, courageous, and bold;
please remember him son, as you grow old.
The value of his service, I must explain,
if not remembered, will be lost in vain.
As a nation we’re nothing without soldiers like him;
and failing to remember would be a terrible sin.”
I listened in awe as my father spoke,
it seemed as if his heart were broke.
I suddenly remembered when he went to war,
and when he returned I thought nothing more.
I never asked why he walked with a limp,
and I didn’t care about why he was sick.
I was too busy enjoying the life that I had,
to realize that I had it because of dad.
I finally understood what my dad was about,
and it hurt so bad I cried out loud.
He sacrificed so much so I could be free,
and his battle scars were suffered for me.
It was my father’s spirit that spoke to me that day;
thank God I finally understood what he had to say.
I saluted his coffin as they laid him to rest,
and I thought about the medals pinned on his chest.
That I didn’t honor him sooner, I will always regret;
and I pledged that day to never again forget.
I’m proud that my dad was a patriotic warrior;
I’m honored to be the son of an American soldier.
Poem | |
I had yearned for it all my life -
That simple gesture
That finally healed
The open wound
That for years
In a silent stream
That fell Between
The cracks in
You and I
When with a gentle sigh
Into my eyes
Held my hand
And kissed my fingertips
Before you died
Author: Elaine George
Poem | |
I am not a father
Nor I am a mother
I am just a daughter
That is growing better...
Father, you have been away
I truly wish you have stayed
Hugging me as I lay
I don't need much penny...
All I have been missing is you my daddy
Your love and your real company...
Look, how I am now
I pursued my little vow
Hoping always, You'll be proud
It's alright if you'll not be loud...
All I want is for us to bond...
Yes, I am neither a kid nor a child
But still, there is that longing
I cannot deny...
I miss you much, daddy...
contest: POEM FOR DADDY
SPONSOR: LEONORA GALINTA
2ND PLACE - TO GOD BE THE GREATEST GLORY...
NOTE: I REALLY MISS A FATHER'S LOVE..
Poem | |
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.
Poem | |
The candle seemed to call my name
I watched its brightly flickering flame
The light from it shone bright in the dark
I was hypnotised by its golden glow
The wax melted slowly so slowly
Like creamy liquid tears running down the sides
Drip, drip, drip, a silent puddle formed
Slowly oh so gradually over time the wick decreased
Almost like your life was ebbing away
Getting smaller and weaker every second
The candle flame started to dim
Flickering dancing flickering dancing
Fighting to stay alive with every ounce of its strength
Finally it flickers for the final time
It gave its final breath
Leaving a wisp of smoke
I imagined it was your spirit rising through the air
Ascending towards heaven
13th September 2014
~awarded 1st place in contest sponsored by Judy Konos~
Poem | |
"Slipping into a coma, the emptiness of a dreamless sleep.
Nightmares filling your head, where nothing is what it seems.
You're underground, desperately tryna' find your way out,
tunnels all around, but doors are no where to be found.
The ground has no traction, and you're floating above air.
Tryna' hold on to something, but there's nothing there.
And then you fall, and all you can hear,
is the rippling of your clothes, and the wind in your ear.
And just before you hit the ground,
you feel something grip you, without making a sound.
The next thing you know you're looking into a Man's eyes.
You feel safe but afraid, all at the same time.
That's when you wake, but you were never asleep.
And you're lying in a bed, with the Man at your feet.
He welcomes you to His kingdom, and into His heart,
and He finishes his drawing, another of piece of God's art."
This poem is about one's struggle to find God. About having to search, and feeling hopeless. Like we aren't really traveling through Hell, but we are searching with no idea which way we are going, blanketed in a coat of black. Like an infinitely deep hole with a small stream at the bottom, and you've just got to hope to find that stream. Then when you think all hope is lost, you realize that He has been sitting there, waiting for you, pulling you out of the darkness Himself, knowing you would look for Him. He accepts us into His kingdom. It's as if we are a piece of art, and he is adding on to us everyday..
Poem | |
Sitting here, on these old porch steps, that I have always known
A weathered stoop, with gray-painted floorboards
The creaks and groans, the flaws and chips, so familiar to my hand
I've come to some conclusion,
and I'm surprised to understand,
how well I know each board, each slat,
the shape, the size, the warps, the cracks
each rusty nail, ....
but not the facts of you.
Oh yes, ........I've seen a glimpse or two,
in photographs, I have a few...
I see a robust man, in yellowed hues, of vintage stock...
There's a house, a barn, where land is strewn with stones to move.
You stand behind a horse and plow, in coveralls,... a mustache too .
I do recall, so vaguely gray, as gray as slats beneath my hand...
a jolly man, your wrinkled face,
with a smile, a laugh, a loving way
A dream I have, or is it real?
Is that me when I was two? Sitting here, beside you then?
Or is it just my wish to know... more than just a trace of you?
I never knew the man you were, your hopes your dreams...
the thousand schemes that brought you to these rocky slopes
so far from where your hopes began
Where those steep cliffs rose and the seas were blue.
Here, I look beyond these furrowed rows,...
where grasses grow in amber waves
and I ponder how it came to be....
that I am me,....
who came from you;
a man I never knew.
(To watch the youtube video recitation:)
Poem | |
What makes the decision
To flick the switch
To end ones life
For the sake of it
Bullied at school
Fork in the road
To let death rule
Daughters and sons
What ever affects them
They just can't outrun
Sadness and tears
By all left behind
Will they ever understand
Poem | |
Looked at the outside of steel window
Around in the dark, awesome feelings into the mid-night air
What the news was brought in the feelings!
Eyes of the orphan cat was flaming on the corridor.
Waiting for the light in the window
Dark vision comes down into my eyes by cycle-weariness
Down from one circle to another circle in time-blindness
Who stands here, the Islamic old man!
History of terrorism was carved on his burnt body
He wants to say something!
A white-complexioned Christian young man stands into the neighbor circle,
White-skinned history was printed on his blood-stained body
He wants to know something!
A dark-colored Hindu boy stands into the third circle,
History of third world is awakened on his envenomed body
He wants a little smile!
The old man, young man and boy are coming forward from the circles
Great distance... Near ...in front the room...
Who are you? No reply
They disappear into the tuberose equipped black and white photo of my father
Dad is smiling, I am senseless!
Tears are dropping from the eyes of our cat on the corridor.
SANDIP GOSWAMI, INDIA
Poem | |
Does the past really matter?
Does it set you free?
I’m absorbed in the sin,
That is surrounding him and me.
Lost in the curiosity,
Cold to the touch.
Drenched in the poison,
With my dignity in his clutch.
Feeling like I was cheated;
I chose the evil instead of light.
I traded in the sunshine,
For what lurks in the night.
I disobeyed his orders,
I gave up security to be unsure.
I went against the warnings,
Gave into darkness instead of remaining pure.
Once my bed was made of soft grass,
But now it is made of stone.
Was plump from all of the luscious fruit,
Now I’m starving to the bone.
My curse is one of circumstance.
The punishment a crime,
I’m stuck inside this dampened cave,
For the rest of time.
My world came crashing down,
The grief has not subsided.
My heart broke completely,
When my sons collided.
My misery a token,
From the abandonment I earned.
Upon the time spent in sorrow,
There was a lesson to be learned.
Have I found the moral?
Only in time we shall see,
For all I did was eat an apple-
From the Knowledge tree.
Poem | |
You speak into your child's life in whispers
With the strength of the four winds
No need for yelling
For your child has expectant ears
A fathered gift
Born out of pained understanding
Mistakes not needed to be repeated
Your love an inoculation to failure
Resilience will permeate a new generation
You smile with furrowed brow
For time passes much to quickly
There is fear there is some lesson you have forgotten
Not what you want for your begotten
Still you see this precious ones progression
He possess strength laughter and compassion
Humored moments and strong funny bones
Will insure this child will never be alone
A tender heart and a will like a stone
You will have to let go
Time progresses it never slows
Deep inside your heart grows because you know
You have given your all
This child will rise up tall
Won't be afraid to fall
He heeds your Father's call
For he has learned at your loving feet
Wisdom has been his bountiful feast
Some day he'll be a father too
He'll bring blessings back to you
For you have been faithful
and a father true
Inspired by Funom's poem, "Words of Wisdom to My Child".
Poem | |
When I'm alone I wonder why you didn't fight for me
You get more credit for being a dad that you deserve to be
All the times you gave your word and left me standing in the rain
All the promises you broke and left my heart with pain
Even as a little child I never could understand
How you could ignore me all the time and still call yourself a man
All the times you said I love you and never backed it up
All the love you never showed and all your lack there of
I only wanted you to care, I longed for your attention
All the mistakes and problems you caused, I won't waste time to mention
I wanted you to be there for me, though you never were
So how can you still say you miss me, you've really got some nerve
Others made of for the loss of you, but it's never been the same
I now have the only man I need, I hate to even speak your name
I have someone else who makes me feel good, it will never be my dad
I just wish you would have been the father I never had
Poem | |
Saving, Blessing, Guiding
King, Lord of Lords, Savior, Creator
Teaching, Leading, Fishing
building , directing , sacrificing
family head, director, leader, manager
nursing , assisting, guiding
teacher, adviser, counselor, caregiver,
leading, molding, supervising
giving unconditional love
whom we can hold on to and trust,
so,love and honor your father and mother
one of the commandments
Above are precious diamonds and gifts of love,
Safely kept in my diamante- poem treasure box.
Sponsor: Poet Dr. Ram Mehta
Poem | |
Struggling through the Great Depression
Growing up fatherless in the care of a loving aunt
Losing her husband, his weary mother could not cope
Working for the Civilian Conservation Corps
Trying to support his family
Attending school at night to provide a better life
Playing his sax and clarinet
Resounding notes of joy cast blessings
Filling our home with happiness many children never know
Loving eyes and deep, gentle voice
Drawing admiration from all who came to know him
Speaking softly, never in harsh tones
Accepting life’s challenges
Forgiving when his children seemed ungrateful
Nurturing, caring, standing by our sides
Picking us up when we fell
Offering support in every endeavor
Being the kind of father he never had
Teaching us to work hard and achieve
Reminding us that life offers no guarantees
Encouraging us to rebound from challenges as “come-back kids”
Gathering at his hospital bedside New Year’s Day 2009
Astonishing nurses with the depth of our love
Never leaving his side, three grown children rested hands upon his
Lingering six days in a coma, perhaps his soul already in heaven
Speaking to him, hoping he could hear
Wanting him to feel our love one last time
Siblings who rarely agreed
Concurring just this once
Feeling blessed by our father, the brightest star we see in heaven
* Dedicated to my father, Arthur Schwarz, who died January 6, 2009
Poem | |
A million times I've needed you
A million times I've cried
If love alone could have saved you
You never would have died
In life I loved you dearly
In death I love you still
In my heart you hold a place
No one can ever fill
It broke my heart to lose you
But you did not go alone
A part of me went with you
The day GOD called you home
Your precious memory is my keepsake
With which I'll never part
GOD has you safely in HIS keeping
But I have you forever in my heart
Poem | |
There once was a man from Niagara
whose wiener's so long it would stab ya'
but when it got little
his pills became skittles
until he O.D.'d on Viagra
© ~JSLambert 2011*****A classic "stiff" competitor, standing "firm" amongst other "members" in the "thick" of the competition:) hope everyone gets "a rise" out of it!