I do not know?
There you are being conceived in your mother's womb.
Before you know it you will be born in this world
As you develop; you start to move around. You take in
your first food as your mom gobbles it down.
Your ears start to develop; behold now you can hear!
You start to move around as the sounds you hear are
You look around to only darkness. So you yawn and fall
asleep. Look at those precious toes that are taking
shape on your little feet!
You hear your mother talking and you react to her voice.
You start to kick. You start to coo. It seems to make
I can hear the sound of your heart beat, and at hearing
it I fall in love. I take a moment to see what is now
going on in heaven above.
Yah smiles down upon you as a precious baby is starting
to take shape. Everything seems good so far, but hold up
A pain hits you hard. You're wondering what's the
commotion. You don't even know it, but your mom
is now having an abortion.
You don't deserve this. You're a precious baby. To be
born is the Father's will. But you don't even know it,
because now you are being killed.
The pain is killing you...unbearable pain, but what can
you do. It hurts too much to say this is what your mom
thinks of you.
Some think they know better, but your life began at
conception. Why do some think otherwise? Is it because
they fell victim to the devil's deception?
Look at you torn to pieces. I'm crying at the sight
of you. But it's a relief to your mother, she sees a
different point of view.
Another child dead. Another life gone. I can't control
my emotion. A precious gift from above is now the victim
of another abortion.
Copyright © Jarid Miller | Year Posted 2010
We lost more than just a Dad that day
We lost half of how we came to be
We lost we four girls first love
We lost our Best Friend
We lost more than just a Dad that day
Our Mom lost her Soul Mate, Her other half
Our children lost their Papaw
We lost our family’s foundation
We lost the glue that held us together
We lost more than just a Dad that day
We lost the Strongest man we ever knew
We lost the man we looked up too
We lost we four girls Teacher of many things
We lost more than just a Dad that day
We four girls lost our Hero
We lost some of our Light
We lost part of our Heart
We lost part of our Soul
We lost more than just a Dad that day
We lost some of our Courage
We lost some of our Strength
We lost some of our will to fight back
We lost some of our will to carry on
We four girls lost more than a Dad
We lost more than just a Dad that day
Copyright © Sabrina Niday Hansel | Year Posted 2013
sometimes i talk to myself,
my mind is racing,
i dont know what to do...
so hard to explain.
depression isn't a stage
or a faze some kids go through
it shatters you...
i saw it all.
she cried silent in her bed,
blood stains covered her favorite jeans,
her every shirt,
long sleeve ofcourse...
she suffered through it all with few people to call friend
and more to call enemy
even more to say where quite dissappointed....
her first name in school,
not started by a bully
or a mean rival,
but by her sister,
and it echoed through her soul,
repeating in her mind... over and over again,
like the ripples of still water
when a pebble is dropped
flash frozen in time
over and over again...
It was the first name they gave her,
millions where created over the years,
some repeating again, just as the first had..
gothic they called her,
emo, fat, ugly....worse things.
but in her mind, things where worse.
everything was repeating,
over and over again,
finally she believed it.
she asked for help, from everyone
tried to explain to parents she wasnt well,
got called a psycho for asking to see a theripist,
not from a teacher,
not from a class mate,
but from her own father, who wouldn't, couldn't,
believe there could possibly be a thing wrong....
finally, crying, she confessed her bloody secret to a teacher.
rather then giving her time,
she is sent back to class crying her eyes out, as if she wherent going through enough...
she is sent to the principals office a few minutes later, after breaking down in class...
the princlipal says she needs help,
sends her and her dad for a risk evaluation,
her dads crying as she shows him her cuts...
they walk into a hospital room,
it smells of chemicals and hand sanitizer,
the lady at the desk gives her a smile.
then she goes into a room with a lady,
her cheeks are sunken in and shes wearing way too much makeup,
the girl is gaging on her perfume,
and she looks really intimidating....
her dark brown hair looks dead and flat
even though its a bit wavy,
and she wears somewhat of a mocking frown.
asks her all these questions,
is mommy beating her?
is daddy raping her?
is she doing drugs?
is anyone beating her?
did anyone molest her?
oxcarbezapine, trazadone, citalipran, clinazapam, colonipan,
valium, lithium, more.......
and thats what they gave her,
some numbed the pain
some brought it out
tearing through her organs,
she became an addict by the time she was fourteen....
over dose after over dose
some for pleasure
some for pain,
gashes on her legs getting deeper,
this time she didnt tell a soul,
not even those she had come to call friends....
wakeup she screamed in her head over and over again
as she dropped weight like it was nothing....
you cant controll it she argued as things became worse.
at age fourteen she attempted suicide,
she didnt quite succeed.
the medication took away her aappitite....
she liked it
she hated her body
felt out of controll
found a new way to cope
as she shoved tooth brush after toothbrush down her throat
to keep her body from nuitrients...
as she whent weeks and weeks spitting food into napkins and making excuses
I ate at my friends house....
spoken as a whisper
heard like a sentance
echoing in her mind over and over again,
along with that word, all the words,
ugy, anoying, stupid, fake, worthless, nothing...
one bite she would say
rocking back and forth
craving nothing but food
her body racked with hunger pain
one bite and there she was again
over and over and over again
back to a toothbrush
this time she sees blood
she saw her ribs
she saw her bones,
it wasnt good enough,
she almost died, again....
choking on this deep dissappointment in herself,
gaging on everything they where pushing down her throat,
their words, and their insults, their criticism.... their drugs
all shoved down her throat like candy
and just as she was was trained to do she swallowed despite the bad taste
or the hurt
or the fact that at the rate she was going she would be dead soon...
and you know why?
because daddy yelled
and couldnt accept what was happening
not because he wanted to hurt her
but because it hurt him,
and she let him believe,
because she could take the hurt if it meant he didnt have too.
because mommy didnt want to sit in her room all day
practically having us raise ourselves,
she didnt mean to take anger, or frustration or hurt out on her daughter
she suffered everyday in her solitary confinement,
and from a young age she accepted her bedroom was the cage
her mother had created for herself.
because sister didnt want to effect her the way she did
she was just frustrated
fed up with the way things where
scared, she needed someone to take her cruelty
and to help heal her pain...
because people in school
who where so cruel
had to have learned from somewhere
and she wasnt going to play into their games,
and they knew she was an easy target
because she would never attack someone so weak
and she accepted her suffering was a sacrafice
to help all these people....
to help her dad,
every person who was beaten abused or hurt
and felt so weak at home they wanted to feel strong in the one safe place they had.
because depite the fact she had died inside,
and almost passed away on the out,
it was a saccrafice she was willing to make
so that no one else would have to feel that kind of pain,
and they all inflicted it and broke her down'untill there was nothing left but a shell
of somthing that could have been
and never had the chance
because she would take it and wouldnt strike back,
because sometimes "just taking it"
isnt so much about the weakness not to do anything
but about the strangth not to hurt others the way they hurt you...
Copyright © cassie hellberg | Year Posted 2013
Tears too much in which you bleed
Heart aches toll, low sub's breathing
For then, in them, is shown in your skin
May it be brushed over
So it may sit to seep in this pale face
For you're in health
But yet sick in your emotions
Too close you can not bare now, today,
tomorrow, or again in yesterday's
For your pain is nearly not bared
I pray for you and your sister when weeping
Hopping that you will not drown in all sorrows
But cry when times are closed
Mother is all, not yet lost, for her heart lives inside yours
Knowing of a passing before it happens isn't so strong
But the second it comes, she goes and all weights toll
Heavy your heart is, you carry it like the ones in that room
All seems silent till a sob is heard
Hear at this event, the dark colors are all in the lights
The cold faces all glow so bright
For this woman has brought life into the minds
that breathed well before her time
To a loss like this, I would not bare
Alone I would feel, to a special youth that I still endore
For she is what's left of me; whom I may speak to, and
whom would listen
As to you and your family, may you all lay close to her
May you breathe the way she has breathed
May you all see what she has seen
And may you hear all things she has heard
Her passing does not make your separation,
it only draws you closer
For the day of her event, bless her soul's crossing
for she stands in the clouds
Smiling above all your scene's
In hopes that you will all remember that she is still
there even through these means
I pray for you and your family to give potency and healing
To rejoice on the day she rose on cloud nine
And touched God's face
For this moment do hot dwell in the loss
Cry long but not for ever and remember
her years journey that she has completed
She is in thy safest place and thy hearts of whom she loved
Copyright © Savoy Boddie | Year Posted 2014
Her childhood indelible painted upon her brain. She can still see the knife in her stepfather’s hand and her screaming mother pinned to the bed beneath him, and she knew her mom was dead, even before the last breath escaped her body. But for one brief moment their eyes met, and she could not erase the horror it has painted upon her brain. It was a seed that has grown into a tree. It is revenge.
He went home early that day to “butcher” his step daughter; she was only ten. When her mom returned from work, she was hiding under the bed, and blood was flowing down her legs. Her mom entered the room, and saw him lying on the bed; she fetched the kitchen knife and leaped towards him. They fought, and he stabbed her to death.Yet she cannot be convinced that her mom is dead. She still believes that her mom exists in her, and the doctor has mistakenly pronounced her dead.
Leaving the bed soaked, dripping red, he bolted through the door, and a voice that was not her own screaming above her head. When last she heard of him, he was sentenced to be hanged, but she was in another world. She thought that God would come that day, but he didn’t and her mom has not risen.
©2013 Christine Phillips
Copyright © Christine Phillips | Year Posted 2013
I was laying on the beach
On a hot August morn
A sudden pain in my gut
I knew that something was wrong
It's Eddie. I felt it so strong
I Picked up my cell and I called
The emotional pain of it all
My body curled up in a ball
I sat up again to be sure,
the solar plexus was sore
Why to I question these signs
I know that there isn't a cure
For the feelings I want to ignore
He never answered the phone
I packed up my stuff and went home
I worried all day and all night
The sunrise brought more than just light
The loud banging began at the door
I peeked through the blinds to be sure
There were cops all over the street
Guns drawn made the picture complete
I opened the door full of fear
Oh my God! Why are they here?
My heart dropped, I wanted to hide
When he said "Sgt. White, homicide."
Is your son home he wanted to know
With his foot in the door I said no
Do you mind if we just have a look
And I backed up after biting the hook
They swarmed through the house
Guns up in the air
Upstairs to his room
They looked everywhere
My solar plexus was right
I'm glad I came home last night
But where did he go? I needed to know
His innocence still in my sight
The officer said have a seat
Let's talk about where he could be
A boy was found dead in the street
A witness put Ed at the scene
Don't worry he said as I pulled my robe tight
Your son was a victim of robbery last night
I know he's afraid to come out in the light
I didn't believe him. But I knew he was right.
My son was afraid and now I knew why
He took someone's life who's mother will cry
He was just seventeen a year younger than Ed
Why do these kids seem to be so misled?
What happened that night is a mom's biggest fear
A child was lost in the drug war I hear
The exchange in the alley of weed for the cash
Was a set up to rob him of all that he had
When the kid put a gun against my son's head
Said 'empty your pockets' or soon you'll be dead
He had no idea that the pocket was packed
With a 38 special protecting the cash
The rest of story is packed in a box
The panic, the fear, the action, the shock
He emptied the gun and ran for his life
While Nicholas bled on the pavement that night
My heart cries to God asking why must I be
The mom of the kid who killed her baby
I cry for her loss as if it were mine
I beg her forgiveness, and I offer her mine.
You don't want to be either one of these moms
Our children at risk, a sign of the times
God please shine Your light on this good Earth today
We're all human beings who've just lost our way.
Copyright © karen feist | Year Posted 2008
I wish that your death turned out to only be a bad dream.
Your demise makes me feel like I'm coming apart at the seams.
I wish that I would wake up and realize that it was only a nightmare.
But you really are gone forever and it proves that my life is unfair.
If I could wake up, I would be so pleased and it would be great.
Your death hurts so bad that at times I can't even think straight.
I've heard other people say how bad their loved ones deaths hurt them.
But a man doesn't know how bad it really is until it happens to him.
The Lord decided to call you home even though I asked him not to.
I wish your death was just a dream because I would still have you.
[Dedicated to Agnes Johnson (1948-2013) who passed away on March 6, 2013.]
Copyright © randy johnson | Year Posted 2014
I’m sorry faith didn’t give us
Much time together
For I long
Every time I sit at a table
For your delicacious
For every time I see
A mother and child
I can’t help but wish
It were us
Every time I receive a hug
I wish it was from you
Every time I pick up
A picture of you
I wish you would talk to me
Every time I pick up
I wish I could see you in them
When I close my eyes
I see your face
Smiling at me
When I look in the mirror
I see you staring back at me
When I listen
To the song of the wind
I hear a string of your voice
I love these things all
And treasure them
But I’ll also like to
Have the others
And will love to have
Everything you is
I’ll never run out of space
Copyright © nana ayisha yakubu | Year Posted 2013
Even though you've been gone for a year and a half, at times I still feel lost without you.
When I feel this way, it's so sad and I don't know what I'm going to do.
While you were on your deathbed, I asked God for a miracle when I prayed.
But he still took you after you had been my mother for over four decades.
When somebody has been a big part of your life for that long, it's very painful when they're taken.
When the doctor said you were going to die, I would've given anything if he had been mistaken.
It broke my heart to see you lie in that hospital bed and suffer.
The situation was bad enough but it was bound to get rougher.
Things became much worse when I woke up and saw that you had died.
At times I still feel lost without you and it tears me up on the inside.
[Dedicated to Agnes Johnson (1948-2013) who passed away on March 6, 2013.]
Copyright © randy johnson | Year Posted 2014
Nobody knows the pain she hides,
No one cares to look inside.
This little girl that’s only nine,
Has to fight to stay alive.
Her mom’s an alcoholic,
And her daddy does drugs.
She gets beaten and bruised,
Instead of kisses and hugs.
Nobody hears the little girl’s cries,
Nobody notices her wet swelled eyes.
When her mommy is drunk and her daddy is high,
So she doesn’t get beaten, she has to hide.
She’s sick of the pain,
That she suffers from every night.
She’s sick of getting punished,
For her mom and dad’s fights.
So, she went downstairs and grabbed a rope,
And hung it way up high.
She stood on a chair and put her head through the noose,
And jumped and hung there to die.
Her mom came home drunk that night,
Her daddy came home high.
To find her hanging by the rope,
To find out she had committed suicide.
Nobody knew the pain she hid,
Nobody cared to look inside.
The little girl that had wet swelled eyes,
Committed suicide and no longer has to fight to stay alive.
Copyright © Ashlee Vargon | Year Posted 2006
I do not know?
The nurse ordered her to push, push, push
in her best proper voice
and linen balled in red fists knotted
and sweat falls from red face knotted
while Billy, head first, tugged and yanked by nurse's proper hands,
emerges, gently laid upon the blood soaked sand
motionless in the sulfur haze, almost well-behaved
amongst the rifle clatter and bewildered screams -
get down! get down! get down!
while Billy breathes slowly, undisturbed,
his eyes closed with new mom
gently caressing matted, cark curls,
her fingers, no longer knotted, extended,
Billy's tiny hands and infant fingers
grip the plastic ribbing
around the rifle barrel smeared in stickiness that flows out
from below Billy and onto sand, puddling, his lips chapped and parted,
suckling as new mom exhausted weeps
in relief of two arms and two legs and everything okay
as she holds him, hurting for him,
everything that might happen,
everything that will happen,
and she drifts off to slumber,
mother and child peacefully spent
in soft pretty colors
and the soft murmur of the television as the sedan
with government plates at the curb
and a Marine in dress blues (Oh, God) stands plastic in the doorway
and uses his best proper voice (Oh God, not Billy, Oh God)
to regretfully tell her,
and uses surprised hands to catch her when her legs
regretfully cannot hold her
and she sobs on the floor like a mother who outlived her son,
exhausted as the day Billy was born.
Screw this war.
Copyright © Sean Swain | Year Posted 2006
I do not know?
Slow was the logo he had been wearing since he was born.
Born into a world of poverty and scorn. They look at you funny when your mom is
destroying her fetus and it's not even born yet.
9 months of pain in a bubble of insanity. Slowly fading. She didn't know how much you
were going to be.
So when the day came and she lied down on the table screaming and breathing. Cussing and
fussing. Wondering why she didn't keep her silly legs closed.
But then you come around and your eyes were enough to tame her. No more stripping to make
a dollar, no more crack pipes she wanted to be the perfect mother. She raised you right,
though she made some mistakes she was really trying.
Your first day of school she held your hand and cried because you were becoming such a
She didn't yet know the hardships that were to come. The boat was solid now but the waves
were sure to crash it.
The little boy strutted to school he wanted to make his mother proud but he didn't yet
know he was going to be made a fool.
First day of class and he could barely read. Teacher's crucified him because he didn't
know his ABC's.
From then on he was labeled slow. Got left back in the 3rd grade for him their seemed no
He went from being so determined to blaming his mother, the stress so enormous she
started the pipe again.
The boy couldn't imagine how much he had hurt her. But he knew hurt as well and for now
he felt he deserved to be selfish.
Kids teased him every day, stole his lunch money, called him " slow" and a dummy. He had
no friends and one day he turned to his mother.
He said mom why is that every day I go to school and they tease me and I come home and I
tease you. But you’re silent, you don't ever belittle me. Why is that mommy? He stared at
her with intelligence in his eyes. The mother was silent for a second and then she looked
into her baby's eyes and said " Because to me you are golden and even though they might
not see it I surely know it".The boy looked at his mother and said but how can I be
golden that's not what anyone says they all say that I’m slow.
The mother looked at her son and reached out for his hand and slapped it. Didn’t I tell
you never to listen to what other people say it only matters what you think? What do you
The boy gazed into his mother's eyes and said " I think I’m really bright, if you can see
it and I can see it than that's all I need to know. The mother smiled as he left her that
day the future seemed bright.
Copyright © Shahana Jackson | Year Posted 2005
I watched my mother
Beautiful, petite, smart
Widowed at 28 with three small children
And people said, "Be extra good, your mother is fragile."
A blonde Jackie Kennedy,
Right down to the pill-box hat
The early 60s when women were pretty, songless birds
Protected in their husbands' split-level cages.
Remarry was the only way, "they" said
As she ran for public office, favored to win.
But he wouldn't have a wife that worked
Unless ironing his shorts three times to get it "right."
Glass is fragile. I found that out
As I heard him smashing it when he beat her at night.
Bones are fragile. I found that out
When mommy had broken fingers and toes after loud nights.
My mother was many things.
A victim. A woman. But fragile?
Mommy bird sang a song of invincibility
As she escaped her cage with five children in tow.
I have two girls of my own. Smart.
Beautiful. Compassionate. I am proud.
They know that fragile means breakable
And that women in our family are more steel than glass.
Fragile is for collectibles we buy and sell.
My mother taught me we cannot be owned.
Fragile is for birds without a voice.
But my mother sang, even if in a different key.
My mother was the strongest woman I ever knew.
I hope she looks down on her female descendants
And sees that one Jackie-like woman in a pill box hat
Inspired generations of decidedly non-fragile women.
January 26, 2017
Copyright © Cindi Rockwell | Year Posted 2017
Sometimes I think that it has been so long since your departure
I actually lived more years without you than with you
Even though I had to accept the unspeakable pain I went through
I ventured into stages of life and had since mature.
Ummi words will not be enough to tell you how much I miss you
I remember your sweet smell forever in me imprinted
The cuddles of your arms where I felt protected
Your beautiful smile brightening my horizon renews.
I was not finish loving you ummi!
As I grew up more and more, learning to know you
I felt getting closer and closer … step by step … I had walked a few
I wanted to become your closest ally so you could rely on me.
I wanted to protect, help and take care of you one day
As you had spent so much of your time caring for me and my siblings
Your only girl I was and connected to you even in my dreams
I was going to be there for you… undertaking your relay.
My tears are still flowing for you from my broken heart ummi
As you left suddenly, a tear ingrained in my soul
I cannot resolve the unfinished puzzle
As if that fateful day, you had left with a piece of me.
I will forever love you …you’re the sweetest ummi
Copyright © Nassira Merahi | Year Posted 2008
To be called ..
~ Grandma is a Honor ~
I have been blessed with 4 Grandchildren
~ one lays in Heaven " Kaleb " He is God's Angel ~
~ His twin brother he will always watch over , and be in his soul~
For he loved his Brother so much in the womb ,
he chose Heaven which gave life to his twin
~ I feel his spirit when I see the other Grandson ~
Time passed another gift to see
we are " Mickes" and Loved
Our Dad held the title in Baseball
~ that's how we roll ~
those children are Grandmas hero's
The Irish they love big and Family is everything
The brothers will protect the beautiful sister
~ as many lads will be calling ~
Every time my Grandson hits a home run
There will be a Angel watching proudly in the stand
It will be as if the Angel lifted him when he runs
~no one runs faster then my Grandson~
either baseball or Art ~ you shall find your gift given
These children have been blessed~
~ a beauty to hard to describe
If you think not ~~ Take a look at the Mom
That girl can stop Traffic
after raising three and still~
"Inspired by the gift and loss of Grandchildren "
May our precious " Kaleb " softly rest where Angels only Dwell
Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013
Im going to tell you a story about a girl.
She was smart, and ready to take on the world.
Had a hard childhood with her mother always ill,
but her father worked hard and struggled to pay the bills.
My name is Pam and the poem your about to read,
Is a interesting poem, all about me.
I started to feel depression and pain,
at the age of 15 I was snorting cocaine.
I got pregnant at a young age and wanted to explore,
So I walked right out of my families door.
Time went on and I was still not around,
My mom grew sicker and dad wearing a frown.
Not much longer until I experienced this change,
and tragic horrible hurt and feeling of pain.
I walked in that room ,and climbed in the bed
I layed down beside him, and layed down my head.
With my hear I could hear his heartbeat.
The next thing I new we were burying him six feet deep.
At the funeral they said she was in a better place,
but it just wasnt fair to see that look on her face.
My mom that is she died with my dad,
She may have been breathing but always so sad
Two years later she decided to give up,
her faith was gone and hope for luck up.
Thats when I really started to struggle,
barely getting by and forgetting that i was mother.
She seen me drift into a dark place,
I started loosing weight in my stomach and my face.
Before I new it I was always getting high,
Weeks became months, and time flew right by
Its to bad that I chose this new path I was on ,
Because on August 11Th I got a call saying my mother was gone.
Like a replay I walked into that room,
to see her lying there as stiff as a broom.
I layed down beside her and rubbed my fingers
through her hair , but the pain I was feeling I just couldn't bare.
You would think after loosing my mom and my dad,
Anything else wouldnt seem near as bad
Within four years I had nothing left,
My child was taken for my foolish regrets.
Just me and my addiction no more tears to cry,
so many different ways that I could get high.
I would like to introduce this powerful drug,
It bring nothing but bad when I was searching for love.
The name is crystal, Crystal Meth
The one thing in the world, I wish I had never met...
Copyright © Pam Siddall | Year Posted 2012
The Old Salt was a special man who came along in a time
when he was needed most.
A time that is now gone forever.
When men believed and sacrificed, when hero’s walked the earth in mass.
When patriotism was not just a word
by what men lived and judged the worth of each,
a man who lived a life most of us cannot comprehend.
An era now gone as this warriors tour of duty ends at this station,
and begins anew in the heavenly fleet.
Sail on Sailor into your unaccompanied tour,
we salute you.
What greater honor, that when a man moves forward,
he leaves behind in each of us the best of what he was.
A defender, protector, supporter, victor, a warrior,
the last of the breed from an era when ships were made of wood
and men were made of steel.
The Old Salt has reported for duty that takes him away from us for now.
Those of us who remain behind,
remember, and will continue to remember,
because he now resides forever in our hearts.
As I look up at night, I envision The Old Salt,
a beret draped just above the eye,
as he draws upon his pipe,
quietly he waits.
The guardian of heaven’s gate.
Copyright © Mac McGovern | Year Posted 2010
They see strengths
Not the limitations
These are people who will make you proud of yourself
They will tell you why you’re special
Trust you to the point you have to answer their expectations
They make you better than you normally are
You can be proud of yourself
They respect you
For what you’ve done
Where you’ve come from
They see what you’ve experienced something real
Respect you for your courage
They live by their rules
They do not expect you to follow theirs
They are at peace to themselves
They are not proving anything to you
They are good listeners
Sincere in their interest in you
You feel important
They are available for honest
Makes you want to share yourself
Copyright © Jacqueline R. Mendoza | Year Posted 2013
Our Father in heaven gave us a special gift.
Mom was one who kept us from going a drift.
The sound of her voice took away our fears.
Mom was the one who heard our tears.
She had a gift for calming and healing.
Mom alway knew how we were feeling.
When it was hard to hold on to life’s rope.
Mom was the one who taught us how to cope
She would tell us to get on our knees every day.
Mom was the one who taught us how to pray.
Her words are with us for we are apart.
Mom loved us deeply with all her heart.
We reach our arms up to heaven and wish we could touch.
Mom we just want you to know we still love you very much.
Edward J. Ebbs - Written 4/07/2013, for eulogy, Mom's Funeral
Copyright © Edward Ebbs | Year Posted 2014
I remember the day Trixie died,
Sinbad staring out upon her grave.
No crying, just day after day, homage.
I couldn’t stand seeing the pain,
Nothing I did, petting, holding,
Could bring him away from the grave.
So down to the pet store I drove
Hoping for a partner to please
And found a pair of cuddles, babies
Arms wrapped together in play
One black one orange which should it be?
Orange like Sinbad or black?
But how could I take one from another
Leave another hole, so black and orange
Babies two, drew Sinbad back over
To sleep the peaceful sleep of cuddles
Warmth from another, held like a mother
Or held like a father, Sinbad was mine
Once more we could live in happy cheer
Death deserted from our midst
When the wonder of youth appeared.
Copyright © Sheri Fresonke Harper | Year Posted 2013
To all you mothers out there from someone who has just lost his mother, we are
who we are today and who we are tomorrow largely due to our mothers.
You hear the academia praise how teachers and other mentors shape this world,
but what about mothers. Mothers do get recognition once a year, but my mother
was a full time mother, she was a home provider. She made sure we were
properly clothed and bathed; she made sure we ate everything on our plate if we
put it there. Waste was not part of her vocabulary, and perhaps one of the most
difficult roles for any mothers and my mom was that of emotional support. Of
course, it does not stop there.
Mom taught us why rules are important and why there are limits and what the
word “No” meant. In our teenage years we thought she was unfair only later to
discover her purpose. Mom and Dad both set me aside after I purchased my first
car and got my first real job, and said they had taught me right from wrong that
their job was done...Their job was not done, that was only to teach me another
lesson of responsibility in making decisions on my own; I would make mistakes,
but they had faith in me that I would return to center.
So, I believe that Moms shape this world and future generations more than they
get credit for and it’s not a once a year job, it’s a forever job.
Edward Ebbs - Written for Mother's Day 2013
Mom passed on 04/06/2013 - RIP
Copyright © Edward Ebbs | Year Posted 2014
The stars they used to bring tears to my eyes
Dark skies, I cried as I prayed for daylight
You were my fragment of pain
I became swallowed in memorys of darkness
That used to come and go so haunting, the loss of you
Still is killing me, for you were gone so suddenly..
My first child
My first love
Now all I have left
Are the stars above
Not to mention
The glow of the moon
That always reminds me
That you were taken too soon
Tears fall down my cheeks
When your name is spoken, that's when
These demons become awoken
Losing your child
Is too much to bear
Dreams full of terror
Seeing the pain in your eyes
Everytime you look in the mirror
I can look at the stars now
With hope, instead of pain
You my child, did not die in vain
You will live through me, glow bright star
Glow.. Glow for me
And for all of
The mommys to see
Be my guidance, keep me from the ledge
To you child, this I pledge:
I see your glow and I can now smile
Though I might shed a tear every once and a while
Just because, I'm missing you
But I promise I will pull through
Thank you spirits
Thank you stars
For welcoming my child
With open arms
Keep him safe
Give him love
And let him know I am with him
Everytime I look above..
Copyright © Karissa Kelley | Year Posted 2013
Story of a boy.....
I was to go to bed at 8 that night
When there was firing at the door,
Heard mom gasp,"God save my son."
I had no idea of what was in store.
We ran to the basement and shut it tight,
Mom pointed to the passage where dad hauls in wood
Sternly commanded me to go
While still as stone there she stood.
The sinners banged the door hard,
Through the passage there was just room for me to fit
So I sat down and shook my head,
There was no way that on my mother I'd quit.
She looked at me in the eye and gave me a kiss
And said,"Darling please listen to me,
I love you so very much
As fast as you can, do get to daddy."
'I'll get Dad' I thought and started to crawl,
I had to hurry,the door had almost gave way too
Noticed a sharp thing in the way and stopped,
But mom, in haste pushed me through.
I yelped in pain as iron cut my arm,
But what hurt me more was the door falling with a 'thud'.
Scars on my soul left me nightmares for years to come
Mom's cries and final scream echoing as I ran in the mud.
Fifteen years later, in the same but better town,
I show my arm to my wife and say
"If not for these scars I was left with
I would be with mom today."
Copyright © sadaf syed | Year Posted 2013
I do not know?
(for the countless women, names unknown, who bore the brunt of Apartheid, and who fought the racist system at great cost to themselves and their families, and for my mother, Zubeida Moolla)
Pregnant, your husband on the run,
your daughter, a child, a few years old,
they hauled you in, these brutish men,
into the bowels of Apartheid's racist hell.
They wanted information, you gave them nothing,
these savage men, who skin happened to be lighter,
and white was right in South Africa back then,
but, you did not cower, you stood resolute,
you, my mother, faced them down, their power,
their 'racial superiority', their taunts, their threats.
You, my mother, would not, could not break,
You stood firm, you stood tall.
You, like the countless mothers did not break, did not fall.
You told me many things, of the pains, the struggles,
the scraping for scraps, the desolation of separation
from your beloved Tasneem and your beloved Azad,
my elder sister and brother, whom I could not grow
up with, your beloved children separated by time, by place,
by monstrous Apartheid, by brutish men,
whose skin just happened to be lighter.
You told me many things, as I grew older,
of the years in exile, of the winters that grew ever colder.
You were a fighter, for a just cause,
like countless other South African women,
you sacrificed much, you suffered the pangs,
of memories that cut into your bone, your marrow,
you resisted a system, an ideology, brutal and callous and narrow.
Yes, you lived to see freedom arrive, yet you suffered still,
a family torn apart, and struggling to rebuild a life,
all the while, nursing a void, that nothing could ever fill.
I salute you, mother, as I salute the nameless mothers,
the countless sisters, daughters, women of this land,
who fought, sacrificing it all for taking a moral stand.
I salute you, my mother, and though you have passed,
your body interred in your beloved South African soil,
you shall remain, within me, an ever-present reminder,
of the cost of freedom, the struggles, the hunger, the toil.
I salute you!
(for the brave women of South Africa, of all colours,
who fought against racial discrimination and Apartheid)
Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013
You left us on the Fourth of July
Now my heart is filled with unexpected pain
I remember when you would say to look at the sky
To find the moon, now that is on memory lane.
You would sing us the sweetest lullaby
Even though you were far away
And simple phone call to pacify
The miles traveled in a day
But ever since the day you've been gone,
I've succeeded in many things you'd be proud of
It has been so hard for us to move on
I just keep thinking of you up above
No matter the miles that keep is apart
You will forever and always be in my heart.
Copyright © Gabrielle Caudill | Year Posted 2015
My mom was a strong woman, and stubborn too,
Yet she had a soft side, between me and you.
That side she would show, when you least expected,
But let me tell you, she was well respected.
Mom was quite unique, and was one of a kind,
She was set in her ways, so keep that in mind.
The youngest of nine, she had gotten her way,
Spoiled by her siblings’, almost every day.
Right out of high school, she had married my dad,
Blessed with three children, plus fifty years they had.
They both were hard workers, in all that they did,
My dad taught himself, from when he was a kid.
My mom was a smoker, for forty-six years,
Some day it would happen, she’d face all her fears.
Lung cancer she had, and inoperable too,
Her time on this earth, would be shortened we knew.
Radiation and Chemo, had done their thing,
Remission set in, tears of joy it did bring.
We would go out at night, to shop and to talk,
I knew she enjoyed, getting out for a walk.
Two years had gone by, after Thanksgiving Day,
Her pain had returned, but was afraid to say.
She’d lie on the couch; it was strength she did lack,
We knew in our hearts, that the cancer came back.
We shared lots of laughter, but many a tear,
I tried to assure her, she’d nothing to fear.
“Please watch over your dad, this one thing I ask.”
“I know it will be, quite a difficult task.”
One morning in March, Hospice called us to say,
You may want to come, for she’s slipping away.
For the night before, mom told me to stay home,
“Be there for your kids, you can call me by phone.”
When we all arrived, for a moment she woke,
Her eyes said it all, not a word had she spoke.
We stayed by her bedside, just holding her hand,
“It’s time to let go mom, we all understand”.
A few days had passed, not ready to let go,
For it had been raining, but letting up slow.
The sun began shining, the clouds disappeared,
Opening the heavens, for mom’s time has neared.
We gathered together, her forehead we kissed,
Whispering so softly, how much she’d be missed.
“Your time has arrived mom, just follow the light”,
She left us so peaceful, she gave up her fight.
It was time to drive home, in the car we got,
Then something had happened, while leaving the lot.
Huge drops of rain falling, it had to be fate.
They were tears of joy; she was at heaven’s gate.
Copyright © Kelly Zakerski | Year Posted 2009
In my cradle,
My tiny body was cradled
In my mothers arms.
My gem among gems,
I remember when I cried
You comforted me with
your soothing words.
Your re-assuring hands
Secured me till Death's
Cold hands snatched you
From me,a sucker I was
That needed you most.
Adieu! Sweet mum till
We cross paths again!
Ifeanyi Bob Ekechukwu
Copyright © Ifeanyi Bob Ekechukwu | Year Posted 2013
TO MY MOM DADA ZOUWAIRATOU M YAUKI
THE TRUEST HAUSA-FULANI
The iron core of the whole family
She stands with the long rooster
First crow which tears up, praying, and
Goes on laboring till the owl grave hoots
Herald the veiling darkness and darkness
Is life, and might.
But also death and weakness.
The hoots made me feel so small when
A child, and think of mother to soothe me,
For I had fears, and my people's fears were
Forced upon me too.
The twain Angels
Of life after Death!
Dream of stars, my eyes fully open
Away from my tiny world full of fairy tales
With the spider as the hero as running
From the ghosts
Oh, Allah! Lost before standing on my feet!
I like my mom and she likes me too.
She prays Allah to grant me success
And I ask Him to forgive her, for
She’s always been my surest support
Of course she hadn’t been to school
But was a school herself. Proud
Greedy reader, my friend, be sure that
She’s as divine as your MOST perfect mother.
Copyright © Jaafar Sadig El Waad | Year Posted 2015
My mother comes to visit me
I always look forward to what will be.
Leaves of red and brown, as it is fall
Her presence here makes me feel small.
I know she loves me, for that is true
“I’ve come to have a talk with you.”
She tells me dad is doing well,
I know she’s happy, I can tell.
She then asks me how I have been
I respond to her with a wide grin.
She talks about my uncle too,
“He always says he misses you.”
She says that she’s been working hard
Taking care of the house, and also the yard.
Silence echoes as leaves fall from the sky
Now it is time to say goodbye.
I call out to her and ask for her to stay
But she lays flowers on my grave and walks away.
Copyright © Louis Nathaniel | Year Posted 2014
My Daddy’s coming home, he promised Mom and me
He told us not to worry; he was safe as he could be
He’ll wear his vest and helmet and stay out of the crowd
My Daddy’s in the Army and he serves his country proud
It’s just another tour he said like the ones before
My Daddy’s coming home some day but today he is at war
We didn’t hear from Daddy, though he said he’d call each day
My Mommy said don’t worry but let’s kneel down and pray
We thank God for our Daddy and to keep him safe and warm
Like he did the last time and back in Desert Storm
We tell God that we love him and that all we’re praying for
Is Daddy coming someday but today he is at war
We haven’t heard from Daddy; it seems for quite a while
We still kneel down and pray for him but Mommy’s lost her smile
Friends keep coming over and they pray with her too
My Mommy looks so tired and sad; I don’t know what to do
Today my Mom was crying when she hung up the phone
She said that was the Army and their sending Daddy home
I said let’s pray for Daddy and knelt down by her side
She didn’t help me with the words; she just knelt down and cried
I knew something had happened but I was scared to ask
I asked God to take over; he handles all those tasks
Then I got this funny feeling, my Daddy’s not alone
He’s with some fallen soldiers and God’s bringing them back home
My Daddy’s going home today like he promised Mom and me
Home to be with Jesus for all eternity
With Memorial Day coming up, I thought I would share this with all of you. IF you
like this check out my poems - A Little Hill IN Arlington and MIA Hill
Copyright © mike dailey | Year Posted 2011