She is searching for the son taken from her arms
simply because she was believed to be a child herself.
She was unable to stand up to her parents’ wishes -
those GOD fearing upright Christians whose pride mattered
more than their daughter’s feelings.
Her son’s pink-cheeked newborn face, chubby and cute,
haunts her waking moments.
But in dreams, she sees him tall, athletic and so beautiful.
Beautiful like her Johnny, the boy with whom she’d conceived her son
all those years ago.
Nathaniel she had named him, Nathan for short!
Shortly thereafter, she’d accidentally but happily been given to know
that the adoptive parents were honoring the wish of the biological mother.
They’d kept his name Nathaniel. Though she knew not their surname,
his name was her glittering hope. It IS her hope today,
for this one piece of knowledge has sustained her through
the eighteen long years that were to follow
that long sweltering summer before her child’s birth.
That summer so long ago, when she'd been made to stay at her aunt’s house
in a little town far away from her city and out of sight of her parents’ friends.
As her belly grew larger, she would bide her time, sometimes taking walks.
Past a rusty gate that led into an old graveyard,
she would seek shelter from the sun,
along a green shady path meandering past headstones
headstones with names of souls who once inhabited this strange little town
where she was spending the fifteen summer of her lifetime.
She'd never been the child her parents believed her to be; she was an old soul.
She could have been a good mother. If only Johnny had not deserted her.
Oh, beautiful Johnny, the father of her Nathan! Surely she'll see her son soon,
and surely he will resemble the love of her youth.
She has returned to this little town where she’d felt her Nathan’s tiny fingers
wrap around hers that last day she held him - as if imploring her to stay.
But obedient daughter that she was, she gave her son away.
Today her Nathan turns eighteen. Born August 28th, he can’t be hard to find.
How many Nathan’s with that same birth date could exist in this little town?
She has kept the vow she made to herself all those years ago -
to not try to see her son until he became an adult.
Now she is finished visiting the town’s two schools.
There is no record of a Nathan, Nate or Nathaniel born Aug. 28th.
All these years clinging to her hope. Had the adoptive parents left town?
Had her son never grown up in the little town at all?
With dismal thoughts swirling in her mind, she finds herself walking. . .
walking like she did in the summer of her tribulation.
Past a rusty gate is that old graveyard she remembered from before.
Here she is again on another sweltering August day walking
along a green shady path meandering past headstones.
Almost instantly, her eyes are drawn to a small mound and a stone
overgrown with vines.
A strange dread has come upon her. As if compelled by some strange force,
she finds herself yanking the vines off the tiny headstone!
Tears well up in her eyes as she reads the birth date on the stone
and sees the very short span of life revealed by the date of death of
her son Nathaniel.
Written 10/1/16 for the Overgrown With Vines Poetry Contest of Broken Wings which was judged First place along with some other first place beautiful poems, 10/8/2016
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2016
Birth was suppose to come easier than this.
I pant quickly as I was taught,
but pain evaporates my gallant front
and tears have come from eyes squeezed shut
I hear a voice unlike my own
The room is filled with some concern
I groan, the doctor takes a turn
Quick-fire decision, a swift incision
... a tug, a void,...a cry... a babe..
The next several hours are a bit of a blur
until everything clears, alone in my room
on sterilized sheets, too stiff, too sleek,
too fragrant of bleach, to think about sleep.
Suddenly, all I can think about is mother
and how different it was for her,
especially, since her young husband was so far away
This miracle I bore, as soft as fine silk,
with tiny closed fists, rose-petal nails
fills me with joy, with relief, I am filled
with a deep pang of grief
for a long ago thief
I can feel the connection, mixed joy, and compassion
I bathe in the scent of my brand new beginning ......
But my thoughts stream behind me,...... to a hope that had ended
My mother in bed, after losing her first....
So young, in her bed, without child,........ bleeding red
from the war that she fought, while my Dad fought his own
I cry tears all alone.... for the grief that she owned
I so cherish the breath.....of this babe on my breast
The circle of life, starts with birth .....sometimes, death
Contest: A Hundred In a Row
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2014
and she said
Yesterday,I lived for thoughts and dreams
but today I live in my daughter's happiness
All my goals I left behind to watch her reach her own
All my friends I do not see,to stay with her at home
Money might get tight,but what is money
compared to pure joy of a child
What is money compared to her almond eyes
Success lies dormant on shelves for years to come
But what is success compared to first giggles
to first steps, first mouthfuls and her little grabs
Compared to gurgles and babbles
to first time she calls me mama
and hold on to my hands
What is beauty in the world compared to a pearl
This innocent child,a coloured coral petite pretty girl
Yesterday,I lived for thoughts and dreams
But today I live in my daughter's happiness
I had my days of wine and chocolate eclaires
roses on doorstep,unsigned love letters
with spiced cologne and enticing words
Today I live in my daughter's shadow
To watch her live her own dream
I watch her bloom in autumn gardens
from princess of hearts become queen
Tomorrow I will not be here
She might not get to see the white of my hair
the wrinkle in my smile
But,today she knows I love her
long more after petals wither
long more after a mother's hug fades
long after I shine from the sky.
Dedicated to my beloved Christina with love
Happy first birthday wrapped with barney hugs
and Winnie the pooh kisses :-$:-|B-)
Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2013
...and the wind..!
there was water..!
there was sun..!
...it was all renewable...
Fossil liquids burning
that was OUR mistake.
From the day a human kick started
wound up the first combustible engine..!
The first spill in any ocean
should have been our clue.
It was what cigarettes was to lungs-
-what alcohol was to brain cells.
It was a human error,
a human error so huge
that like a mythical dragon
assumed a life of its own
consumed the will
the limited minds
of limited men.
Unlike the giant beast
veiled as nuclear power
with its unlimited potential
that would have wooed the minds
of the greatest among us,
oil from its inception
had the smell of destruction on its breath.
It would in its own way
fulfil the prophecy
the world would end
with a whimper not a bang.
We saw its horns
its bright red skin
its pitch fork
but we signed up willingly
...and from that day on
our eternal souls were damned.
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014
I can hear them from here
Their wails and cries
I can see their tears from here
They are the babies I wasn't bold enough to birth
Babies my stomach wasn't strong to carry
Babies I killed before they saw the light of the world
They were sleeping peacefully inside me
Growing graciously within me
Until I took the pills
And first it was their head
I felt as it dissolved into blood
Each moment of pain
I could hear them asking me
Why not give us a chance to be the best God wants us to be?
I felt them fighting terribly for life inside me
All I could do was to hold my stomach
As I rounded into a ball in the corner of my sorrow
Then slowly I felt life slip out of them
And slowly the fighting ceased in a loud silence
As I looked down, I felt between my thighs, a fluid
But it wasn't blood, but the dreams and Ambitions my babies could have had
All streaming down my thighs
'My MA and PA will scold me'
' I don't want shame all over me ' I begged
Then like angels without wings, I saw them! All in white
They were two beautiful boys ...
Boys I could have given the best I never had
'I'm sorry ' I uttered
Then slowly they turned their backs and left
And written on the path they stood was
YOU KILLED US.
(This is to children who were too perfect for the world to see)
Copyright © Abosede Ogundare | Year Posted 2016
Battered and bruised mommy cries as she tries to cover her black eyes.
But mommy doesn't see daddy as her demise.
One January 25 mommy and daddy awaited as baby arrived.
Smiles of comfort and tears of joy came as so did the baby boy.
Mommy and daddy weren't ready to take care of the child for daddy was still a child.
At heart mommy took all those foul mouth liquor jeers from daddy's mouth but baby didn't
know what that was about.
Mommy stays with daddy for the child, not realizing that it is doing more harm than
anything...comes from daddy's mouth and baby takes it in not realizing.
Flashing lights and sirens ring incredulously one slumber-some December night as baby was
tucked in tight...while mommy and daddy was going on like it was Saturday fight night.
Baby cries but whose there to hear for mommy and daddy curse and de fouls the baby's ear.
Baby's heart is broken and shattered as mommy is shaken and battered.
Sweet kisses to mend her wounds internal and external but are they sincere from daddy's
They will never part even though in mommy's heart she wishes daddy would leave forever.
One grief-some January 25 mommy rested never to return for her and daddy went on a
"Where is mommy", said baby but daddy couldn't talk.
What could he say "I beat mommy till I killed her leaving her internally bruised and brain
He couldn't say that any way for he was talking to Tiny in cell block five that day.
And baby has no other choice than to realize that his family was nothing more than a mere
Battered and bruised mommy cries for help as she fights for her life.
Because daddy has beat her till her eyes turned dark as night.
It's ironic because baby has become a fighter in Saturday fight night.
Copyright © Paul Easter | Year Posted 2009
As I think back to yesterday,
my vivid recall of your days of play.
I can still see you laughing as you ride your bike,
and all those expressions for the things you liked.
Now you are a man, and you stand so proud,
as you salute your commanders among the crowd.
Soon you will leave me for a far a way land,
filled with violence, and miles of sand.
Your dream has always been, to serve, and protect,
my son so proud of his country, with no regrets.
I pray for your safety, while wiping my tears,
your only nineteen, I can't hide my fears.
So tomorrow you will leave me, and your dreams fulfilled,
but you will always be my baby, and my life you thrilled.
Copyright © Christy Hardy | Year Posted 2007
Marching as one, they rejoice His Birth,
children of Faith, know His worth.
Gathered in worship, separated by miles,
all know the meaning of His given Child.
Wise Men came far, to look upon His face,
the child of Mary, asleep on the hay.
Shepards in the fields, were told to rejoice,
voices from Heaven, told of this boy.
A star led the way, across many a mile,
followed by many, to see the Savior Child.
One cannot forget, how Christmas began,
a baby was born, and Jesus, He was named.
Copyright © Christy Hardy | Year Posted 2007
Ah, the bloom was on the Rose
yet, the taint of alcohol and drugs
looms nightmare like behind her baby pink cheeks.
Porcelain skin tones, raspberry rogue
nails to scratch and lift bits of dirty lucre.
She was clawing her way up,
and hopefully out, he hits her, “Slut,” he screams at her.
a sometime replacement sat beside him.
His Chicano inner-city drawl hurt her ears
and the fake diamonds studding them.
The new girl beside him
She’s due at work by nine,
grabbing a smooth wrap-top and a mock
grey skirt, she rushes from the room to the bank.
She can still see his long fingers playing in other girls cleavage.
Rose, well, Rose pays the rent. She strikes a teller’s pose
behind the formica countertop...
Long days, counting other peoples money
kindness, and sweetness sucked from her
like a ripe plum on a summers day.
She needs work, more work.
I asked her to help in the garden.
Long blonde, buxom, bending over weeds,
only six months to go to graduation
an associate degree…
Rose chuckles, “Look who I’ve been associatin’ with?”
I eye the twenty-five thou lottery ticket in my jean pocket.
“You want to move here Rose?”
“What would they do without me?”
I sigh, thinking of her alcoholic mother
off bingeing and her “boy fiend”.
The lottery windfall went for Rose’s college tuition.
The bloom is off the Rose now,
two hundred plus pounds later
strung out beside her Mom on a ratty couch,
she eyes the Diploma in it’s cheap black frame,
and rocks her baby girl
some things, never change….
*Names have been changed, and the amount given, but part
of the ending has truely come to pass already [sigh].
The rest is all true.
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2011
The New Year’s Baby each year starts out fresh and new,
Always exciting, the life of the party, and never blue.
He’s a quite active little Cherub who’s cute and funny,
And he’ll be there at the stroke of Midnight to usher in
The New Year and to escort Old Man 2014 outside where
The unforgiving “Dust Bin of History” awaits his tired old
Body and his failed attempts to improve mankind’s lot.
The New Year’s Baby will be a busy little fellow indeed!
The New Year’s Baby is eager and chompin’ at the bit
To get started on January 1st to make his mark in our world
During 2015, and brings with him both enthusiasm and hope!
The reality for our little Cherub will be much different than
He realizes since certain age-old specters still pervade “Home
Earth” today: Tyranny, Poverty, Disease, Famine, and War.
And we shan’t leave out a couple of new ones at home with
Us today too: Global Warming and Worldwide Pollution.
With these major problems, throw in Mankind’s “Seven Deadly
Sins,” along with murder, rape, guns and nuclear proliferation,
And all other types of crime—you’ll see and understand why our
Bright, young, and full of hope New Year’s Baby will begin to
Age so fast over his allotted 12-month tenure here on Home Earth.
Really, all we can do is to wish our Cherub friend our very best and
Pledge to work with him, world societies, and world governments
To try to make things better on our planet and among our world citizens.
The transition from the Old Year to the New Year is no doubt a time
For both celebration and reflection—and in spite of the negatives I’ve
Listed, not all is so terrible nor lost, as long as our world community
Begins to realize that the brightness of the future we hope to have for
Generations to come is very much tied to the solutions we contemplate,
And the decisions we pursue in attempting to improve our situation.
And the big FACTOR “X” in this whole equation, lest we forget, is not
To forget to turn to the Almighty Lord God in our maximum hour of need.
I’m personally not a zealous religious person, but that does not mean that
I don’t believe in the power of divine intervention in the affairs of mankind.
The key, I believe, is for everyone on this Earth to include nations and
People alike to pull hard and a really commit to make our world a better place.
We inherited this world by the beneficence of the Almighty himself with the
Hope that Man in the image of His Maker would become his Brother’s
Keeper—but time may not be so much on our side, as Mother Nature has
Been complaining of late of mankind’s violations of the integrity of this Earth.
A little faith and prayer to Our Lord God never really hurts—for the stakes
Facing our world for the ultimate survival of Mankind are the real deal.
Make no mistake about many of the negative factors I’ve listed—they
Are indeed real and won’t be that easy to readily solve as some require
The concerted effort of everyone as we march forward with our dreams.
We have such tools of wonder in our arsenal of modern technology,
Why not use them for the good of mankind and strive to make the job
Of our Little Cherub New Year’s Baby a tad bit easier. I rest my case.
Happy New Year!! Amen!! Amen!! Amen!!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, (December 31, 2014)
Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2014
I was once in your womb
Pain of giving birth was like
One foot in the tomb
The bout that you needed to ease
Because I might be lost
If you don't fight to cease
Thank you for rocking me unceasingly
Thank you for feeding me
In the middle of the night tirelessly
The naval that I see
Is evident that you never gave up on me
I love you so much Mommy
Thank you for your unconditional love
You are my hero Mommy
Sshhh don't tell Daddy Mommy!
I love you too Daddy!
And you are the King and Queen of my heart.
September 30, 2015
Copyright © Meline Ngo | Year Posted 2015
In school these days
they teach about
they should teach
when my son
was a baby
he woke every two hours
doctors said he had colic
time and time again overnight
we got up feed him changed him
and went without sleep
I can't imagine
how hard it is on a girl
to bring up a baby by herself
night after sleepless night
we became exhausted
I can't imagine how
a young girl on her own would cope
then on top of that
she can't go out
the baby won't
disappear for the night
every night day after day
that child will be there
wanting and needing your love
everyday without a break
granted the bond is special
and I loved bringing up my son
but perhaps we should
talk about the work required
the loss of social life
that most teenagers enjoy
having a child will wait
enjoying your youth will not.
Copyright © Bernard Barclay | Year Posted 2015
Once upon a time, I was an only child,
for eight lovely years, it was all about me,
then it happened, the most terrible thing ever,
my Mom gave birth to a bouncing baby boy.
She soon came home from the hospital,
hugging her bundle of joy close to her heart,
I peered into the bundle, honestly what was the,
big deal, he was wrinkled up like an old prune.
As the days past his cheeks grew chubby,
he had soft, wispy hair on his head and his body
filled out all cute, just like the Gerber baby, at least
that is what everyone would say when viewing him.
Gosh, why did he have to be so cuddly,
always cooing and laughing with those bright
eyes of his, blowing bubbles and taking everyones
attention, and why, oh why did I love him so much.
January 19, 2013
For the Gerber Baby Contest
Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2013
The dew hadn't had the chance to come,
and the nightingale had just sung its tune,
as the fire’s flame licked the timber,
and the wolf howled at the moon.
She hoped for the prospect of leaving,
for Her and Her infant to leave soon,
as the fires flame licked the timber,
and through the window, shone
the bright moon.
As night progressed rather slowly,
and her man fell into a swoon,
she chirped; "I'll light another fire dear,
it'll be the last I'll light for you."
Within the first dozen snores he had sung,
She was down by the edge of the flume,
as the fireside slowly grew larger,
and the black creek, reflected the moon.
She didn't propose an objective location,
and She hadn't the total time too,
so she endlessly strayed into vast timberland
illuminated by only, the moon.
Beads of sweat rushed down his cheek,
as he slumbered and dreamt it was June,
as the fire crept up the frame of the bed,
and in the cluster of stars, lay the moon.
By the time it was morning She and Her child
we're wrapped in a swathe cocoon,
as the fire had went into eternal rest,
and newly set down the horizon lay
the ghost of last night’s moon.
Inky ash took to the sky
and in the air His remains strewn,
as the fire had went into eternal rest,
and newly set down the horizon lay
the ghost of last night’s moon.
Copyright © Kurtis Collins | Year Posted 2016
My Baby Sister
My baby sister, Karrean
Went home to eternity
Her soul is with our Lord
To share His full serenity
For siblings we were all close
Our childhood was the best
I’ll never forget the fun we had
Our entire family felt so blessed
She always showed love
To everyone she knew
We all loved her so much
And she loved us all too
As she entered Heaven
My mind envisioned this
She met her first grandson
To give him a hug and kiss
I could see her holding him
Two days before his birth
Giving him all her love
To bring back to this earth
There is one more vision
Another blessing that I see
She is also up there in Heaven
Spending this Father’s Day with daddy
Florence McMillian (Flo)
Copyright © Florence McMillian | Year Posted 2016
I was born in a world of poverty and soiled life of a third world country
The way I lived till I was five years of age was walls of boundary
These walls had towers of guards that had no heart or care
If a child would try to climb the wall they lose their life I swear
Father had drank and threatened my mother with a knife
My father lost his job and wife and that was the hardship of life
He stopped my mother from taking off with me in her arm
Hoping that my father would ignore and left me be with no harm
When my father went off to drink one night and came home with rage
My brothers stood by my crib and took a beating that set up the next stage
My father had woken up to three scared children half starved and in pain
His final words as he walk away from the orphanage gate live life do not go insane
I was still a baby in the orphanage; the caretakers did not really care about the babies
They stole items and materials those wicked men and maternal evil ladies
They starved all the babies because it cost a lot to keep them alive
As a child of that age I could feel the sins and greed that gave out bad vibes
I was ignorant about what I drank and ate, as I see white maggots move in my bottle
As I see them move I thought about how they were playing and some were hostel
They ate each other to keep each other alive in a manner that took me by surprise
In the back round I hear others throwing things with sounds of painful cries
I got very strong at a young age I was able to start pulling myself up over the cage
My feelings were to see my brothers with strong lungs that I cried out of rage
My two brothers came to see me and sneak food into my crib
The caretaker would find the food in my hands as they grabbed it and hit me on my ribs
As painful as it was I kept eating the food with blood in my mouth as it was instinct
I sometimes laid in my crib dazed and confused with smell of death so distinct
With all my might I kept myself strong and climb the small wall
I finally was old enough to get out of the building and I could hear my brothers call
With tears of joy with short legs that ran as fast as my heart
I ran to my brothers arms and held their hands to have a new start
I grew stronger everyday but more things came into my life in a manner of dismay
If my brothers stay by my side I could smile and everyday their would be okay
Copyright © Reynaldo Mast | Year Posted 2013
It's not because of flood or fire,
nothing more than a desire
that's prompting us to tear apart
all that we've established here.
Tired of treadmill tedium
breakfast always at eight am,
walk the dog by nine o'clock,
skim the pool tick tock, tick tock.
Time to find new closets, in which
to re- arrange familiar things,
possessions, we can find in our sleep
Convenience, imprinted on memory
Decisions now on what we must cull
things we thought we'd always keep.
Oops, there goes the baby grand,
the price of shipping way too steep.
We know of roads we've yet to take,
new friendships that we've yet to make.
Unseen rainbows and unformed dreams,
leaving behind established routines.
Beyond - a new horizon rises
Freedom comes from letting go
Detachment happens from cutting strings
Mix up the pieces - start again
Copyright © Suzanne Delaney | Year Posted 2016
One day, one of our daily papers carried a story about a teenage girl who
dumped a baby;after carrying the baby for nine months in her womb.
And nowadays,it is common for teenagers to throw their babies in pit latrines,
drainage,and rubbish sites;
Why acting in such a manner when barren women are cying for babies and
orphanages are around us?
Copyright © chipepo lwele | Year Posted 2013
Im absolutely terrified
My knees shake
Like a baby fawn learning to take its first steps
I want to leap into this wondrous field of possibility
I just don’t want to be dropped like a hot potato
Like so many other times before
I want to believe and have an abundance of hope
But how can I when I’ve been left with a broken heart
Picking up all the jagged pieces, one by one
How can I believe that this time will be any different?
How do I dare risk it all again
Knowing that im putting it all out there once more
Copyright © Madison Mittelbrun | Year Posted 2014
When they told me you were there, immediately I started to care.
A bond between the two, which was a bond for I and you.
You were my something to hold, my something new to behold.
Immediately, I wanted to shape you into a woman or a man who could stand up and stand for whatever he or she felt she deserved, but mainly a chance, in life.
When they told me you were there instantly I started to care.
I was awaiting the embrace of my little one and for you to embrace this new life.
But when they told me that you would not make it, right then I knew my heart couldn’t take it.
My joy suddenly vanished away and that thought of waiting to deliver your warm embrace.
My heart began to break and wonder if this world was just a big fake, to take something so precious, sweet, unique, and by me.
When they told me I began to cry, my soul began to slowly die.
I cried for you.
I cried for me, because we would never get the chance to meet each other you see.
However, if God will have it so, one day I will get to know who you are and what you might have been, the only remedy and medicine to put the lost and the great cost of losing you behind me.
To my unborn love, mommy loves you.
Copyright © Saudia Holmes | Year Posted 2013
While flying from Uruguay to America,
I experienced some fearful problems,
Some were real and some nightmares.
I was tossing my handbag left and right
I heard a sermon my mother used to sing
I was quite engrossed for a few minutes
Forgetting all the problems I was worried about
Hey, my co-traveler said, “your tape is running”
I remembered recording my mother’s voice
I think my mother came as protecting force
Giving an edge over my imaginative problems.
A mother is next to godliness, God personified.
An event of March, 2010 confirms my belief.
An Australian mum brings her premature baby son
Back to life by loving cuddles when chances none
The doctors battled for twenty minutes gave up
Of saving her lifeless baby boy born at 27 weeks.
Doctors gave the child to the mother to say goodbye
The grieving mother cuddled him tightly two hours
Bringing back her son to life, weighing 2 lbs.
Twenty minutes of science two hours of love
I bet it is nothing else but divine intervention
Second part of the poem relates to a miracle happened in Australia. Anyone interested to read more, here is the link
Sixth place winner in
Contest: Divine Intervention in honor of Catie Lindsey
Copyright © Dr.Ram Mehta | Year Posted 2010
DEAR MOM, RUDE WOMAN
I WILL HATE YOU TILL HEAVEN
YOU RUDE WOMAN !...
YOU KILLED ME!
AS U WANTED TO BE
A MOTHER OF A SON
AND U MADE A RUN
TO THE ABORTION CAMP....
DO NOT HARBOUR
DREAMS OF HEAVEN
FOR THERE IS A PLACE IN HELL
YOU CAN LIVE REALLY WELL
TELL MY BROTHERS
ABOUT HIS UNBORN SISTER
DEAD IN THE HOSPITAL...
SATANS TENANTS !
YOU HIRED HER
TO SHUT ME UP !
'TELL MY BROTHERS
IN CASE YOU HAVE ANOTHER
THAT HE HAD A SISTER
UNBORN SISTER !
WHY DOES INDIA GRAPPLES WITH HIGHEST FEMALE GENOCIDE?.....I AM NOT SORRY
IF I HAVE OFFENDED.............
Copyright © Red Fiery | Year Posted 2011
This tiny precious being
I hold in the palm of my hand
About to embark on life's journey
This delicate image of man
Created in his own likeness
This soft, pink bundle of joy
Makes even the toughest of men
Start acting like little boys
Can't imagine anything sweeter
Turns the coldest heart to mush
The sweetest sight imagined
Painted with a loving brush
With all the nasty everyday stuff
That's happening all around us
The birth of a gentle newborn babe
Sprinkles us with fairy dust
Hopefully this magic continues
Through the years that lie beyond
With the birth of each new generation
A brighter new world will dawn
© Jack Ellison 2014
Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2014
Loitering pain; existential in its core
Evicted; eradicated at child birth
From her core.
Self queries, examinations of the soul
Replaced by sense of duty
For the community
And offsprings, she adores.
Existential (ist) angst left her core
Without so much as a goodbye!
Without a farewell!
A feckless lover
Would have treated her
Now she pieces puzzles together
Of galaxies omniscient;
For her five year old
Now she sews rainbow buttons on
The hems of pink tutus
For her little girl.
Now she talks about glittering mermaids, Rapunzel hair
And velocity of planes!
Copyright © YASEMIN BALANDI | Year Posted 2016
I didn’t know the doctor.
I don’t know how I chose him.
Perhaps my landlady had recommended him
or maybe I simply picked him
from the yellow pages.
I was two thousand miles away
from my mother or any relative
or friend with whom I could
go to for advice.
It was embarrassing to open
up to this stranger,
but I needed to know.
The doctor had bad news for me.
I was not pregnant and it was
doubtful that I would ever be pregnant.
My body had betrayed me.
I left his office in despair
and cried myself to sleep
in my young husband’s arms
after I had burdened him
with the doctor’s report.
I wanted to be pregnant.
I needed to be pregnant.
Most of the young brides of my age
had a baby during the first year of marriage.
It was going on two years for us
with no sign of pregnancy.
I was alone all day while
my husband worked and
my baby would be company.
We had come to this city for work,
when my husband could not
find a good paying job
near our native home in North Dakota.
I was young and lonely.
The doctor had given me a prescription
to take for the symptoms that had puzzled me.
I don’t remember the name of the medicine
but it made me very ill.
The nausea did not get better
so I returned to the doctor.
He decided to give me the rabbit test.
The test came back positive.
My husband was worried about me.
World War Two was in full swing.
He thought he would be drafted and
he didn’t want me alone in the city
so far from my family.
We left the city of Detroit and
moved out to the West Coast
where my folks now lived.
We arrived by train, just
two weeks before my baby was born.
It was March 4th, 1943 when
I first held my beautiful son.
I inspected his perfect body,
gazed at his beautiful face and
smiled at the bright red hair on his head.
It was the happiest day of my life.
For Carol Brown's Happiest Day contest won 5th place
Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2010
My Heart, It Was Quite Sound
I felt my heart, yes it was quite sound
So love could invade me once again
Not so innocent, I have been around
All at stake , nobody knows the end!
As she walked by, a star blew out
A chance to get her into my path
Then a man gave her a loud shout
His voice so full of raging wrath!
She turned and raced into my arms,
Her breath and smell sent me aloft
I knew , she loved my magic charms
That fine body and breasts so soft!
A moment and the man lunged at me
too bad for him, I hit back hard
This beauty still holding on to me
This gambler had found a wild card!
Next she asked, will you save me
That brute always follows and fights
Cries that he will never let me be
Watches me in the late lonely nights!
Into my truck we raced so far away
Once again, my mind thought what luck
This has to be my imagined perfect day
This beauty kissing me in my truck!
What is that damn awful blaring sound
Awakened then, saw my sweet dream end
Me all alone, nobody else was around
Vanished away, my beautiful , sexy friend!
I felt my heart, yes it was pounding
There was no stopping me this time
Gone were the grave doubts hounding
My poetic writings, loves and rhyme!
That moment I knew my next best plan
Grab a fifth and quickly drink it down
Sleep deeply to find her love yet again
Yes, I see her coming in that nightgown!
Robert J. Lindley, 07-29-2015
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015
We both were blessed with a prince,
Apple of his mom's and dad's eye,
No words to describe the pleasure of his first sight.
Few months gone,doctor diagnosed a hole in his heart,
Disheartened,distressed we took him to Madras,
To give him a remedy paramount.
Alas!! surgery snatched him,
Anguish at its peak screamed,
Ah!! why me?
Consolations came to soothe my bruised heart,
This is your exam,give your best,..survive..
Vicissitudes come,go with the flow.
My empty wounded womb now,
Cherishes happy memories of two years with him,
Along with fortitude,patience,assurance,supplication.
Following year GOD blessed me,
With a healthier revised edition of my lost prince,
An exemplary that most scars are beautiful,few ugly.
Sponsor: Laura Urbaniak
Copyright © Rizwana Bhurani | Year Posted 2015
"Heh, have you heard the news Ching Ching? Santa has sent
Moushka the baby helper to play Jesus during the Christmas
pageant! " The toy center is now fixed up to look like Santa's
village thanks to Rosetta's swave ministrations. The elves are
in full swing building toys and chatting joyfully. Chico is making
the hot chocolate. He adds a small pinch of chili pepper to it.
"Ha, te gusta no? "
It made the cockles of their heart warm and their spirits fly.
"Chico my man, you make our tummies want to scream BINGO!"
"Ah, then Bingo it is, my little cringos!"
Santa is watching with his by-spectacle spy glass. He shouts
Ho Ho HO! The elves were doing him proud. Moushka is wearing
a triple diaper stuffed with magic fuel. No one need to worry.
As long as the baby was on the prowl, there would be no B.S.
Moushka would help them shoppers keep a level head.
Santa knows the real deal is Jesus. He is just trying to help them
keep it real this year. Baby has many a talent. He can be
anything or anyone he wants. Santa dunks a biscotti in the
hot chocolate and calls to Delfina the barrista elf.
"Delfi baby won't you be a doll and get Santa a smudge of chili pepper.
I hear it makes for a great tummy warmer"
"Sure Santa, coming right up" Delfina takes off on her elfian shoes,
she is light as a feather. She is humming a hauntingly beautiful tune
from Edith Piaff.
To Be Continued..
Copyright © Mystic Rose | Year Posted 2016
You are next to me dear love.
You are the beauty that still reins in my vein.
I sing your name in the lonely seasons.
Bride of your smile keep my breath hooked.
Next to my waist you are the cell phone.
I see us as my own.
You are next to me Love.
We both see earth spinning as time separating us.
Day and night calling, dreaming, feeling,
Logging but your eyes look straight in mine.
I speak language of our Love.
Dreams coming, dream going, here I am standing.
Our romance keeps on flooding.
Earth tests us but we remain growing.
We both see earth spinning.
Our Love is next to me.
I speak language of queens.
Our love sings songs of kings.
We multiply like flock of beans.
We remain glued like a skin to bones.
You are the queen of African soil.
My love is with you.
Hold on to it like a food you eat.
Breathe my love I see you speak.
As we walk in red rose full of tiny stone.
Seating on the corner of big stone acting in-love.
Kissing bubble of flowing hearts.
Earth speaking with sweet wind.
Hugging each other now and then.
Flowing in innocent eye ball of a child.
Big tree is our mementos dear love.
Our love remains next to me.
DoN’t let it Go!
Copyright © lonely mabale | Year Posted 2016
Sweets were a rare thing in our house when we were small.
Money was put to good use, for things like heat soup bones
and warm blankets. Only on special occasions did mom buy
frivolous things like sweets. She would tuck them in the back
of the pantry out of our reach. Some how we always managed
to get them. So she hid them under the counter top under lock
and key. It didn't take long before Tony figured out that if we
removed the top drawer, we could reach in and get them.
One day I noticed the entire box was missing. I scavenged
the entire house and found Tony sitting in the closet devouring
an entire box.
"Give me one" I exclaimed. "Not until you tell me what you did
with the baby Jesus." I thought long and hard about it then
Of course he was tucked safely underneath my bed, for the time
I said, "Oka" what I wouldn't do for a chocolate cookie.
Mom asked nicely, "How did you ever get to the cookies?"
We told her many stories that day. "Hmmm, baby Jesus got to them.
Hmmm, the three Kings used them as a gift for the Holy Family."
None of it would fudge. Of course baby Jesus returned to his
respective place eventually. After Lucy served him his share.
Poor Jesus, what he had to endure, in the hands of children.
To be continued..
Copyright © Mystic Rose | Year Posted 2016