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Details | Son Poem | |

O' Middle Child

O' middle child, dear son of mine, you have always let the others shine
All through the years, you have stood behind
---I want to say, I've noticed you  

Your sister's charms, of course, we knew...
And your brother's skills were multitude
But, my quiet child, though your words were few
---I want to say I've noticed you

While people cheered, and guitars were played,
 as your siblings sang upon the stage
You cheered them on with no restraint
---but, I want to say I've noticed you

Such wit and charm, a heart of gold, 
More generous soul, I've never known
A shoulder you will always lend
---a brother, friend until the end

I love you all, .....of course I do
I have watched you grow, each one of you
My quiet child, you are still the same
---you'll step aside from all acclaim

As parents now, all three of you
I am proud beyond the words I hold

My middle child, I hope you know, 
while you've always been a one to sow
a quiet gift to all you've known

---I want to say I've noticed you........


                                                            




______________________________________________________

Details | Son Poem | |

The Game, Playing the Game

'I want you to use all your powers and your skills
I don’t want his mother to see him like this
Look, look how they massacred my boy'...
Don Corleone (Marlon Brando) in “The Godfather”
-------------------------------------------------------
Playing the game. It's a game isn't it?
Life is but a game, but a dream isn't it?

I drove home by that road many, many times,
that very same short-cut country road that you drove
that road where our lives crashed, exploded and shattered
shattered in jagged shards of Silver-Saturn pieces

(This is where you must have seen the swerving headlights
What were your thoughts? Were you worried? Were you alarmed?
This is the spot, oh God this is where, where it all hap...
What were your LAST thoughts? What were your last words
when that pick-up jumped, jumped and flew out of that ditch?
You always said "WHAT THE!"... Yeah, you must have said that)

Driving myself to madness playing the 'what if' game
What if you had driven just a little faster?
A little slower? Stopped to pick up something?
DIDN'T stop to pick up something? (Did-didn't-did...)
Stayed at work a minute longer, or left a minute early?
(What-if-what-if what-if-why-where-what-when)

Just what are the odds? Just what are the chances?
2:AM? Maybe one car, one car every 2 hours or so?
It was 'perfect' timing, a 'perfect' flash in time
(Perfect-imperfect-perfect-why-where-what-when)

I drove home by that same road many, many times,
that very same short-cut country road that you drove
that same short-cut road, that road you were driving
innocently driving....trying to get back home
 
Yes, playing the game. It's a game isn't it?
Life is but a game, but a dream isn't it?

Details | Son Poem | |

Soldier

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. 

Details | Son Poem | |

Judge Not

The congregation eyed him skeptically
     Long hair, a beard and sandals on his feet
Beyond his exterior they’d not see
     This rambler had just come in from the street

He blessed himself with the sign of the cross
     And joined fully in each hymn that was sung
It was soon apparent it was their loss
     When he greeted God with a gentle tongue

“Lord, You sent Your Son to roam on this earth
     His hair was long and to some seemed unkempt
And when He preached, insults were often hurled
     But He was not repelled by their contempt

“And so, Lord, I seek forgiveness for these
     Who cannot see beyond the clothes I wear
I’ll not be put down by those I displease
     I ask for forgiveness, make them aware

“That Your Son sported sandals and a beard
     I ask You judge them not as they judge me”
When the mass ended, the man disappeared
     At heaven’s gate his name’s on the marquis

Some of the congregation dwell below
     But the homeless man now sits by God’s side
For he had chosen love’s path to follow
     Appearances he did never deride



*For Jared's "At First Glance" Contest

Details | Son Poem | |

Missing My Little Boys

My babies have all gone,
They've grown and left the nest,
Spreading out their wings to fly,
Upon life's thrilling quest.

The years flew by so quickly.
Babies turned into little boys.
Little boys grew into manhood,
Putting away their childish toys.

I miss those little boy faces,
With their mischievous, winsome smiles.
I miss their childish chatter,
And their creative little boy wiles.

Why didn't I pay more attention?
Why didn't I play with them more?
Why didn't I realize how fleeting time was?
But I didn't and it makes my heart sore.

I miss the little boys that my sons were,
But I'm proud of the men they've become.
They'll always be my little boys,
And I will always love them.

Kim Merryman    3/10/12
Entered in SKAT's "Greatly Missed" contest

Details | Son Poem | |

Sunday Morning

Sunday Morning
I try not to wake him, though he stirs slightly
As I crawl out from the warmth of the covers.
I'm tempted to change my mind, and stay awhile longer,
But a glint of sunlight peeks through the blind and calls to me.
If I burrow down again, and drowse too long, 
This glorious time of day will be gone...until it comes again tomorrow.

I tiptoe quietly and begin the morning ritual.
The splashing of water on my face, of letting the dog out,
Of brewing the dark, hot liquid that will help to
Open my eyes and recharge my reluctant brain.

The inviting aroma finally wakes my senses, and after
The first sip, I begin to feel the desire to join the world again.
I go outside, step onto the weathered porch, down the steps,
Onto the wet grass to retrieve today's bundled news.
Within it comes a page-by-page account of disasters, obituaries and comics...
I decide to forego all that gloom, and lay the paper beside the front door.

Instead, I drink in the morning air.
The new day is slowly coming alive.  There's a slight chill.
This coolness will be baked away later, when the sun is high.
I pull my robe around me tightly, and sit down on the stoop.
Birds are chirping, and soon, I see that neighbors are beginning to embrace the 
day.
House by house, there is evidence that awakening has occurred.

A car is cruising by our  house.  The occupants, wearing their
Sunday best, and on their way to an early service to praise the Lord.
While some are sitting in pews, singing Alleluia,
A man down the street is starting his lawnmower.
Not mindful that the Sabbath is a day of rest,
Or that he may wake a late sleeper.

Inside my house, I hear the sounds of water running and dishes rattling.
Then someone calling my name.  In a moment he appears
Carrying two steaming mugs of black coffee, one for him, and another for me.
He's come to see what this new day has offered, and sits down beside me.

We sit together quietly, and soak up the morning sun.
It wraps its warmth around us, like the bedcovers we had abandoned.
No words are needed to enjoy this moment.
However, toast and jam, and bacon await us.  So we turn and go inside.

Details | Son Poem | |

Poet Destroyer-It will be ok

I know first hand the
pain in your heart,it
will be okay,soon you
can make a fresh start.

Your grandson Beal will
be watching over you,and
he knows everyday how
much you love him to.

Sometimes GOD does things
that we don't understand,
but he created your friends
to lend a helping hand.

Reach out to the people
that are here on the soup,
they help through hard times
and are a wonderful group.

There are to many to name
as this you know,
they will take you by the
hand and won't let go.

It will be okay and
soon you will see,
the new joy's in life
and how happy you'll be.

           You will get through this it just takes a little time.

                                                Love your poet friend,
                                                Colleen Marie Bono
                                                  April 11, 2013

Details | Son Poem | |

Wise Men Still Seek Him Today

W-hen the fullness of time had come, Jesus was born behind an Inn in a cave-like stable.
I-n the Inn there was no room for the Son of God, no room for the Saviour of men.
S-tar was shining so bright above the stable for the shepherds to find their way to Him.
E-ven angels proclaimed His birth to those shepherds "Unto you is born this day."
 
M-anger is where Mary and Joseph first laid him.  It was filled with hay.
E-very animal there must have known that their Creator had come that day. 
N-o one knew the depth of love God had, to give His Son to dwell among men.
 
S-ame star guided three kings from the Orient, who studied the stars and heavens.
T-hese wise men from the East came saying "Where is He that is born King"
I-n their hands they brought him gifts of gold, frankincense and myrr.
L-ike these three wise men, wise men still seek him today! 
L-ove is the reason that God sent His only Begotton Son into the world to save us.
 
S-eeking for you and me, yes God was seeking for us because we had left Him.
E-veryone, yes, all we like sheep have gone astray. Everyone to his own way.
E-ach one has to make his on decision to follow Him or not to follow Him.
K-ing, born to be a King. King of the ages. King of the past. King of the future.

H-eaven, He came from Heaven to earth to show us the right way.
I-niquity, the Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all.
M-elody, He gives us a sweet melody, we sing many songs of praise to Him.
 
T-ree, A Christmas tree, the love that Jesus had for us, to die on a tree.
O-nly one life and how soon it passes. Only in life can we accept His Love.
D-eliverance, He came from Heaven to preach deliverance to the captives.
A-cknowlege Him and accept Him. Behold now is the accepted time.
Y-ou, Yes, this Christmas Love was for You.  Will You accept this love?

For Brian Strands Christmas Love contest.

Details | Son Poem | |

Your Time To Shine

What will you do when it’s your time to shine?
Do you have all your words written down in your mind?
Have you planned for the day when they call on your name?
To lift up a soul and help hide someone’s shame?

Is it easy for you to just stand up and speak?
Anytime, anywhere – any day of the week?
What about when you’re asked to give your point of view
On the many events that take place in the news?

If you’re asked to speak on the ‘good news’ of Christ
To those who yet walk in the world, full of vice.
Do you have rhyming words or a sweet song to sing?
As you share with others our Resurrected King?

These questions I ask are to keep us in mind
Of the Great Commission given to all mankind!
That our King will return with Victory in His hand,
And all men will bow with their knees in the sand

Giving glory to God – Who has truly loved us all
Even though our disobedience caused us to fall.
Yet He gave all He had even Everlasting Life.
He forgave us our sins – He took away our strife.

His command said “go forth in the world, filled with love
And be as wise as serpents – but gentle as doves”.
So what will you do when it’s your time to shine?
When God opens up Heaven and says “This child is Mine?”

Details | Son Poem | |

Security Blanket

Security Blanket 

No chance of rain tonight,
No bogeyman, when I turn off the lights.
A phrase I found and adore with the warmth of your security.
You are the reason I attain true maturity.

I love when you lay down next to me,
Like the high tide of the sea,
You move all the warm motions inside.
My arms are the comfort you use to seek and hide.

Your nestle holds a true rhythm that hums its own song~
Nothing comes close to breaking this precious bond~
A sweet cradle-song only I hear,
You play my grin, without the strings of a puppeteer.

My heartbeat needs its fix and drug,
Your sweet, charming smiles and hug, 
Is all I need to succeed, 
You are, my only creed!

A kiss, I give on your forehead,
Into a poet’s world where your blanket a dulcet lullaby, 
my arms are your bed.

“Goodnight Sweet Child, Sweet Child of Mine!”

By; pd

Details | Son Poem | |

Home Run

It wasn't because he brought her flowers....
 It wasn't because he wined and dined her....
   She loved him because he spent hours on the computer
       trying to track down the 1970 Brooks Robinson baseball card
                                                                   for their oldest son's birthday
She loved him because he played with their kids, even after a hard day at work...
     baseball games in the big front yard...
            cheering them on...
                not getting angry when the youngest son 
                           knocked a homer 
                               straight through the living room window


Details | Son Poem | |

Angels Above

Angels Above
A. W. Nutter

At fifteen, I was to young to become a father
At fourteen, she didn’t need to be a mother
We were old enough to have sexual relations
Unable to understand the implications

We cried out in anguish to the angels above
Pleading for their mercy and their love

Parents abusing us for this sinful union
Adolescents fearful and full of confusion
Not able to cope with the adult pressure
The mothers young body goes into labor

We cried out in anguish to the angels above
Pleading for their mercy and their love

My son struggled between life and death
I held his hand as he took his last breath
From my hands his little body was pried
The tears falling like rain from my eyes

We cried out in anguish to the angels above
Pleading for their mercy and their love.

Occasionally the mother and my path will cross
Seldom do we mention or discuss our loss
But every year at nine, on the sixteenth of May
We both agreed, to light a candle and silently pray

To the angels watching from heaven above
 Shower our son with mercy, show him your love



Details | Son Poem | |

A Father/Son Zoo Trip

“Why do the Rams behave violently?”
The little boy queried of his father.
“They need all their might to fight the Jaguars,
But Jags are fast, don’t know why they bother.”

“And why do Broncos try to beat up on Colts?
Wouldn’t this be much like you hitting me?”
The unhappy father just shook his head 
“It’s competition, son, you just don’t see.”

“Daddy, this is not what I hoped to find
At a zoo like other children describe.”
“The football zoo is better than others
Some animals here throw games for a bribe.”

“But you told Mom we would see a real zoo,”
The youngster groaned, sadly eying the field.”
“Please just tell Mom you saw animals play
If she learns where we went, my fate is sealed.”



* For Barbara Gorelick's "Zoo" competition

Details | Son Poem | |

Sometimes

Sometimes I am happy, sometimes I am sad.
Sometime I sing, sometimes I stammer

Sometimes I dance on the music of my soul, Sometimes I dance on the fingers of 
one single person
Sometimes I expect so much from others; sometime I myself can’t meet my own 
expectations.

Sometime I make fun of others and feel bad later, sometimes life makes fun of me 
and I smile
Sometime I win and sometimes I lose, sometimes I don’t even understand whether I 
won or lost.
 
Sometimes I laugh as if whole world is with me,
Sometimes I cry as if I am alone wandering in a strange land

Sometimes I give up so easily
Sometimes I work so hard that no one can stop me to achieve what I want

Sometimes I am dynamic person, who wants to change the world,
And sometimes I am a kid who expects anyone to embrace him tightly.

Sometimes I feel happy about the achievement of my enemy
Sometime I feel dejected with my own success.

Sometimes I help others and show them the right path
Sometimes I feel totally helpless and don’t know where to go

Sometimes I ask god to please give my past back
Sometimes I pray to show me the way forward


Life is composed of SOMETIMES and I just flow with that.
U admit or not but you are also sailing on the same boat.
So join me and enjoy it EVERYTIME as SOMETIMES life is very short!

Details | Son Poem | |

Attention: WORD NERDS--------- The Eight Parts of Speech

---------------------- "Word Nerds" (like me)...
************Please Have Fun & Read VERY Closely:)***********


now and again
a word 
sneakily obscure
approaches the fog in me
screams its name 
suddenly 
apropos adverbs appear
clearly 
startling 
perplexing 
precarious adjectives
slick little nouns
caught hiding 
beyond babbling brooks
sent to exile
defiling crooks
"pro"fessional nouns
jailed
beneath eight parts of speech
preposition'ed 
pre'fixed subjects
elusive predicates
slithering suffix'ation
turn-ing key
delicately 
through holes
freeing vocabulary
trapped 
within prison walls
synonyms 
pen bars 
filled in the past 
participles
plagued 
like Job's tedious job 
of siphoning
deciphering 
homographs from heteronyms 

words never mind...
 
they wind the mind
gliding 
in the wind...





Details | Son Poem | |

Across Galaxies

I passed beneath the bridge today
close by the place you once called home,
and I sensed your latent footprints
still lingering upon the stone.

I wonder . . . did you pass that way,
mysteriously, in the night,
as guardian angels carried you
across the galaxies t'ward light?

July 24, 2014

Details | Son Poem | |

12,045 Days ......(and counting)

My affirmation deceitfully severed
forever robbed by selfishness
Left to tackle life alone 
Tumbling in the wake of my dad's mess

He left when I was three 
The crevasse has increased for 33 years
Traded his life with us 
For another woman and a couple of beers

He wasn't there to pick me up
When I fell off of my bike 
To teach me how to fish 
Or enjoy a nature hike

Now I'm a father to my son 
Hoping not to make the same mistake
Living day to day on this lake of life
My son in tow through my own wake

It's been nine years and we're going strong 
Six more years with my son
That's more with him than I had with mine 
My son I guard in a web I've spun

A web of love, discipline, and nurture
Full of "I love you's" and "see ya in the morning"
A kiss before school and one before bed
Lots of playing, talking, reading, and singing

My son doesn't know the pain I feel 
To not know my dad in intimate ways
No hands to comfort me or words to heal
No dad in sight for 12,045 days.............................(and counting) 






------------------------------------------------------
My son and I have a great relationship and for this I am thankful......

Details | Son Poem | |

A Tribute to Jayson, My Brave Warrior

A Tribute to Jayson, My Brave Warrior
My dear son, Jayson When you called late last night to let me know You were deploying to go overseas tomorrow In spite of my great resolve I broke down and sobbed.
The little boy I lovingly nurtured So witty and good-natured So kind, compassionate, and loving You’ll always be my sweet boy Even though the world now sees you as a grown man.
Recalling special times when I showered your baby face with kisses Or tickled your armpits Howling with laughter, you would beg me “Do it again, Mommy, I love it!”
I remember all those moments we had At times rocky, sometimes sad But most of all memorable and enjoyable. I remember your growing pains All your questions, anxieties, and mixed-up emotions Yes, we made it through hurdles you and I Making me laugh, making me cry But taking that journey together was quite priceless!
You’re now a strong, valiant, young man Willingly putting your life on the line Many have thanked you for your service And, my brave warrior, I am so proud of you When I hear your humble, heartfelt reply, “Glad to do it!”
You’re just simply the best! While you took a minute to leave the nest I’m grateful for the extra time we were given But I know It’s time to let you go – Go take your rightful place in the world.
You’ve grown wings like a fierce eagle It’s your time to fly high! Now soar! But remember that you are always a part of me And even though we may no longer hold hands We are still holding hearts.
These tear-splattered pages Reflect my anguished heart Knowing you’re prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice for your country I pray that you will return to me safe and sound I love you, my hero - my precious son. Godspeed! ¡Vaya con Dios!

Details | Son Poem | |

ECCENTRIC EYES

Oh, her blue eyes are quite unique
Without a word they always speak
Those eccentric eyes, like no other
The precious eyes of my dear mother

A gentle sparkle means she is proud
Fiery eyes means she's screaming loud
And a soft look means.. I love you son
Darting eyes is son what have you done

Them beautiful eyes have followed me
For all of my life.. now close to eternity
She lays in her bed they say, do not go
My eyes answer back I know she knows

I hold her hands and try hard not to cry
She whispers to me.. closes her eyes
What she whispered makes me smile
My eyes will surely shout it after awhile 

Contest: Rose's "Eccentricize My Eyes"
Date: 10-5-14
Poet: LyricMan


Details | Son Poem | |

MILDEWED EXPECTATIONS

The rose colour of your mouth stirs something primordial inside of me – I smile along with you. Plump little hands reach for my face. I hold still while you explore my heart with a feathery touch.
When you are asleep, I look over the papers of your college fund. We could make it if we would forsake frivolities. It will be no hardship for me to do so. I smile contentedly. The boxer puppy lying at my feet; quite content– its stomach pink and extended: he ate too greedily (as usual). You will grow up together and share our unconditional love. The cricket bat, signed by the national team, takes pride of place in its brackets on your bedroom wall – a pale dove blue (matching the colour of your eyes). A gift from your dad – sure that you would follow in his footsteps. A rainbow of possibilities prostrate at your feet.
I check every now and again whether you are breathing. Sleeping soundly, neither a frown upon your smooth face, nor a care in the world. Your long, black eyelashes quiver slightly, as though following a dream – a dream we all shared: a dream of boundless expectations …
************** Exhuming long forgotten memories; mingling with my fevered tears – echoing my breaking heart. They lead you away. Assaulting the arresting officer had sealed your fate.
Mildewed expectations best laid to rest together with the memories of you.
The sky has lost its colour, as I step outside the courtroom. Inspired by: Closer By Chris Aechtner “If frozen within caged snapshots of mildewed expectations” 3 July 2013 Sponsor Debbie Guzzi Contest Name Referential

Details | Son Poem | |

A Mother's Love

A Mother’s Love



Everywhere I go I see my feelings somewhere in its view
The way a flower’s petal tries to survive against a wind's vigorous touch 
Remembering my soul’s sparkle, as I glanced at the flower shining in morning 
dew
Connecting with its fragile existence in the way that I miss you so much 

The snowflakes in the winter, come down leaving a sense of coldness touching 
my face
Slowly, every so slowly they begin to melt after they fall from the sky
Leaving a sense of tears by my eyes, streaming in their thawing trace
As I embrace just watching reflections of you cascading down like a photo slide

Although you are not dead, the distance between mother and son
Resembles the same kind of grief as if God took you away from me
I pray endlessly, that hopefully soon, you and I will unite together as one
So I can hold you in my arms the way it was meant to be

 I know you stare at the cold bars of your cell trying to look past them each 
day
Trying to connect with me in a world you left behind three and half years ago
Only to keep seeing the cold bars reminding you that I’m still many miles away
Surrendering to allow our memories to continue connecting our souls

Months have come and gone as the seasons changed
Realizing that each season represents glimpses of my love’s trace
In the Springs, I allowed my tears to be soothed in the rhythm of their 
quenching rains
In the summers, I allowed their strong rays to keep lighting me a path to a 
warm place

In the autumns, I compared the leaves changing colors to your cycles of life
Cherishing the moment you were born and living within that colored sparkle in 
your eyes
In the winters I connect with the coldness of the trees growing bare, fighting to 
survive
In a season, in a world, in a mother’s love where both grief and strength 
coincides

Dedication to my son Steve who is incarcerated for a while now. I had to write 
this poem to connect my soul for a healing today… 
















   



Details | Son Poem | |

One in a Million

One in a million’s not enough
To say what he meant to me.
One from out of the whole wide world
That is what the theme should be.

He was my son, my only son,
The first of my children three.
I knew that I was truly blessed
When God sent him down to me.

He was born hungry so he cried
For a bit those first few days,
Until his mother understood
The feeding schedule maze.

Once his hunger was satisfied
And he had begun to grow
No sweeter child has ever lived
Nor delightful one to know.

His complexion would put to shame
Any model’s of the day,
His nature, that of an angel,
Was his for a lifelong stay.

He welcomed first little sister
When he turned the age of two.
No jealously did he display
And he knew to be gentle too.

He had pets and he treated them
With great tenderness and care.
If anyone or thing was hurting 
My son was the first one there.

His elementary teacher said,
When trouble brewed on school ground,
My son found the way to fix it
If a fair fix could be found. 

He had a very brilliant mind.
He read books to make him think.
If we had a knotty problem
He’d be first to fix the kink. 

He gave measure for full measure
And then gave just a bit more
When dealing with his fellowman
Whether they were rich or poor.

He loved this world we all live in
And could always find a way
To find enjoyment in it.
He made the best of every day.

He  brought me no pain or sorrow,
But filled my heart with pride
And happy to be his mother
Until the sad day he died.

God sent His angels down for him,
Just before he turned fifty-six.
He’d been born with a heart problem
Even my bright son couldn’t fix. 




won 6th place in Linda marie's One in a Million contest.
 













For One in a Million Contest






Details | Son 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 .

Details | Son Poem | |

Apology

Your apology
Changed me
Opened me up
Helped me to feel
Understand the gift of you
By illuminating my understanding
Of who you are
The we-ness of us

You broke down
The walls I had erected
To protect myself
There was no need to fortify 
Or keep you at my fringes
For your love
Is my completeness

Yesterday's sorrows
Invaded my heart
Caused me to restrict my voice
Holding back
I made the wrong choice
Denied what was important to me
Kept my heart at bay
Yet you opened me in a different way
As I listened to what you had to say

Your mind explored
Deep within me
beyond my words
It was my soul cry you heard
Bringing on a wave of tears
You listened
With more than just ears
Unpacking a treasure 
Dissolving shadowed fears
Revelatory images
From my broken mirror
I was comforted
By you being near

In the end
An apology
Was your greatest gift for me
It showed me a different way to be
I rose up from the muck
To a place where I could see
Where I touched and was thankful
For the you in we
Who helped me finally be
Emptied of those things I held back
The long lost 
restricted 
parts of me











Details | Son Poem | |

STILL THE WORST JOB EVER

       Still the Worst Job Ever


How do I hold thee, let me count the ways.
I hold thee trembling, beneath kitchen sinks
crouched in the darkness of the brightest days
guiding thy beam as his patience shrinks.

I hold thee dulled by lightning’s fearsome flash
shakily awaiting  unseen anger
tortured by the inevitable crash
intrigued by the neediness of danger.

I hold thee wide eyed in dirt-floored cellar 
your flame slow flickering on edge of sight
dimming through the range of yellowed color
draining the darkness from a darkened night.

I hold thee, for my brothers all have fled
I hold thee, not knowing what they dread.



11/13/2014
Submitted for - Sara Kendrick -  Jobs – Poetry Contest