A message from Emilly
By Angelo Casiano
A message from above to those of you I love.
I love you more than you’ll ever know,
Even more now that I’m gone.
And my love for you will grow and grow,
Like the chorus to a song.
I had to leave much sooner than
I thought, I must admit.
But you know mom, until I’m done,
I’m never gonna quit.
I left behind some parts of me,
I have so much to give.
Because of you I’m strong enough,
to help some others live.
So Daddy when you think of me,
While you watch the Phillies play.
I’ll be sitting next to you. I’ll be with you every day.
You’ve given me the best of you.
And now I’m giving back.
I will love you for eternity. No matter were I’m at.
Copyright © Angelo Casiano | Year Posted 2014
I do not know?
I am God's child, first and forever
I am known by many different titles, a daughter
I am a wife
I am a mother
I am a grandmother
I am a poet
I am by several ways, known as a sister
I am an acquaintance
I am a loyal friend
I am a stranger
I am a cousin
I am an Auntie
I am a niece
But who is this person, they all call "Denise?"
She is a child to God
She is a niece
She is a cousin
She is a stranger
She is a loyal friend
She is an acquaintance
She is known to many, a sister
She is a poet
She is a grandmother
She is a mother
She is a wife
She is known as a daughter to many
She is everything, she'd ever dreamed her life to be....
She is happier than she ever imagined possible
SHE IS "DENISE"
Copyright © Denise Hopkins | Year Posted 2013
To Shakespeare I give all due respect,
But the world must be a huge theater I suspect.
Woman’s the major player if not the star,
For she influences all with love from afar.
The main acts of her drama as one envisions,
Occur for my audience in seven divisions.
First the helpless infant in her nurse’s arm,
Fresh from God’s hands smiling and warm.
Yet guiltless and untouched by worldly strife,
She is but a stranger to sin in this dawn of life.
In her pink crib she looks cute and pure,
With a smile on her lips so modestly demure.
Next as a tender young girl of school age,
With pigtails and grace she enters the stage.
An innocent young girl loving dolls and toys,
She has no taste for bruises, math or boys.
Her voice is like music whenever she speaks,
Explaining with emotion the desire she seeks.
In the sweet summer age she becomes a blossom,
And weathers the waves in the role of stardom.
Now she’s a young lady with a pure, creative mind,
Nursing dreams of a life moral and refined.
When put into the orbit of heart-consuming men,
Overcoming dying hope, her world she has to win.
As a wife she makes her home a true nirvana,
Winning from the man she loves her merited honor.
She is in hard times his source of consolation,
And in times of pleasure his joy and elation.
As a lover and a mate she continues to perform,
Keeping house and home through every storm.
Now for the most blessed age of female life,
She assumes the role of mother as well as wife.
Like God's miracle, the first is released with a hurl,
Then with tears and a scream from womb to world.
Before long baby laughs aloud and pleads for caress,
And mother love with playful smile grants the request.
Next the vestiges of youth appear a distant dream,
And spring's lovely buds now attest to her final esteem,
As she enters her mournful stage of the widow's woe,
Her glance upon her children falls as her eyes overflow.
She has lost all her young heart once fondly enjoyed,
And in the business of change of life she's fully employed.
With the final division, youth is now a faded flower,
And she can bask in the coolness of the evening hour.
As she enjoys the reflection of her progeny having fun,
She is reminded that maternal pleasures are not yet done.
She continues to impart knowledge necessary to sustain,
As she guides their hopes to reach for the heavenly domain.
Copyright © Albert Price | Year Posted 2010
As I sit and gaze at your picture
I travel back to days of yore
To the ranch on the Nebraska prairie
And the place where you called home.
I came to teach their school
And was introduced to you
My life changed at that moment
For what I saw was a man honest and true.
A man who since age fifteen
Has been on his own
His reputation it was good
And he worked nine years for the former 101.
He had just moved up the valley
To their uncle's ranch
When I came upon the scene
A city girl it seemed but I wasn't really green.
My mom was from her dad's Nebraska ranch
Not to far away
And her sister taught an Indian Government school
On the Rosebud Reservation..
My brother and sister
A cousin my age and I
Shared a life similar to the life
My Billy had.
Well, not really I'm afraid
We were a few years younger
And though most of our time was spent on horseback
There were no cows involved.
We played in the White River
Rode calves and hogs
While Billy at this same age
Had himself to support.
Now it was my turn to grow up
I took up teaching to go back to the plains
And met the man of my dreams
Who my life did change.
Snowed in following a blizzard in March
And five miles away
Billy rode down the valley horseback
Just to see me one day.
By then we already had marriage plans
But we hadn’t told a soul
It wasn’t till April Fools Day
We finally broke the news.
We ranched, raised our kids
And worked at Truck Parts
Forty-seven years and 2 weeks later
God called you home.
I had truly been blessed
With a good, honest, hard working man
Who is still here for me.
I thank You God with all my heart,
Three Christmases you have been gone
For Cathy it is four, it just doesn’t seem fair
But God has taken from you the pain you had
And I will always be grateful for that.
I love you dear and Merry Christmas.
Copyright © Marycile Beer | Year Posted 2007
You were the first to make me an aunt
That's why I hold you so close to my heart
Your the light that brightens my world
Nothing can break us apart
As I held you for the first time
With your little fingers wrapped around mine
All the joy and happiness came upon me
Which at the time was hard to find
From slippers to sneakers
From onesies to jeans
You've grown from a little princess to beautiful queen
As I continue to watch you grow
I also grow to
From the lost young girl
To the mature aunt I continue to be to you
So know I'm always here for you
I'll never be out of reach
Happy 8th birthday to my beautiful and intelligent niece
Copyright © Lesa Donaghy | Year Posted 2015
While my sister performs
we play, Amy and I.
The other room fills
with sharps and flats.
Quietly we laugh and
hope for an extra five.
I can here her talent,
envy and regret.
I do not need my session.
Stale popcorn and dolls
scattered on the green floor.
Eyes on the clock;
the hour has gone by.
The music stops.
Our time does too.
Copyright © Courtney Thorstein | Year Posted 2015
The Apple PASTURE
Oh how I long
To drift into the apple pasture.
Were once was and all well meet.
A pure and dear site.
Where silver reflection cover the still waters that holds the golden
grains of morality and the grazing souls lie young amounce no stars.
Oh how I long
To drift into the apple pasture
Were winds smell of melon and the trees whisper spring corals in the mellow dark and best of light and time creeps into no tomorrow.
Copyright © JAY JOHNSON | Year Posted 2011
Is It God We Trust? Or Leave In the Dust?
As our courts remove God from this great nation.
We are left with a confused and lost generation!
As God is taken away from our public schools.
A huge tide of immorality is what “rules.”
The Bible is often mocked and discarded.
It was on it’s principles this country was started!
Just about anything of God seems to get scorned.
So many “rush” to worship many ungodly forms.
As God’s name is often tossed and thrown out.
We tend to forget what HE is all about!
Too often, his plans for living are tossed and abused.
No wonder, there’s many who are lost and confused!
As people forget God and worship the fallen creature.
They look to themselves and “glorify” their features.
Many ignore God, and get involved in deep addictions.
And with this, come disease,
heartache and afflictions!
As God looks and sees this nation “bleeding.”
It’s his righteousness, that we need to be seeking!
If we would humble ourselves, he would hear our prayer!
He loves all of us! And he really does care!
Won’t you come to HIM, And invite him in?
Won’t you allow him to be your master and friend?
He brings strength and nourishment to the soul!
It’s only in him that we can be made whole!
By Jim Pemberton
Copyright © Jim Pemberton | Year Posted 2013
Enjoy our parting day
the young girl child,
now full-grown wise Elder,
the brother she had taught to flex male muscle
without overbearing her Sister Gaia powers.
On this classic sun-baptizing fragrant May morning,
reflecting this same gently caressing day I was born
into earlier centuries of flowering cultures,
she prepares to leave me
as the length of our pilgrimage together
grows long enough to tip more poignant hello
into operatic final exit goodbyes.
I remember what I might have felt at two,
when she joined me
inviting me into our special shared world,
loving our polycultural identities,
nondual twins since infant-fairy magic,
not having previously known
how lonely love is without her.
Now, to stare remaining years ahead
without seeing and feeling her morning through evening present voice,
facing my own ecology of each Ego identity dying alone,
inevitably without her, or anyone,
dying without incarnate memories
of unconditionally cooperative love.
at two or three,
toddling outdoors in my most terrifying wild ways
exploring gardens and barns
chickens and pigs and milkcow domesticated wildness,
and returning to your crib to report back
all these wonderful worlds we would welcome
if you could only learn to walk and talk
I need not say farewell
as I learn to see forward as dying
into these deep rich memories
of learning to walk and talk with Sister Gaia's Welcome,
yet sometimes tipping, Wagon.
disappears as we stop over-investing in dominant negative
Yang, outweighing Yin's more integrally inclusive flow powers,
politically and economically,
personally and as a species,
intergenerationally and cross-culturally
now under-invested in multiculturing mutual-equity cooperative investments.
What is our mutual time-investment balance on this farewell date?
Do our mutual equity values line up, match, balance, absorb any lifetime losses?
Sister Gaia's regenerative trends
grow ever deeper cooperative equity-reinvestment designs,
policies and procedures for further self and other development
through EarthTribe Revolutions,
WinWin Life as LoveGame Health Theory.
We give evil, dissonant farewells,
nondual negative Janus-faces of Yang/Yin imbalance,
by seeing these toxins and poisons
and personifications of DeviL,
as other than absence of good
Yang/Yin balanced nutritional Co-Creation Stories.
This Final Farewell Memory
Earth's Embryonic UnFolding
of Love as stretching BiLateral Time's Black Hole
(0)Rigin Tipping MidWay ReVolutions
Yang(+) = Yin(-,-)
ThermoDynamic Prime Eulerian Co-ReGenerative Universal Function
Intelligent ZenZero Tao-Balanced fractal RNA-iconic-ionic enlightenment
as Time's bilaterally unfolding regenerate matters
of EarthTribe's healthy enculturating-revolving futures.
remembering my original embryonically environmental Hello,
Here We Are
incarnating in and out,
back and forth,
up as down,
Yang-out as Yin-in.
While Autumn farewell bears time's reputation for messy falls from grace,
this is prophesied in spring seedling beginnings
bearing message memories merging coarising births
of EarthTribe multigenerational,
His/Her Creation Story,
coarising nondual identities,
within Earth's ecology of regenerate-revolving design,
culturally deep enriching outcomes,
by turning down RightFisted AnthroSupremacy
to balance Left/Right Zero-Centric EcoSystemic Investment
and divestment, double-negative equivalent
WinWin DiPolarity Outcomes
ReGenerate Network Game Theory Development
from BiLateral-Temporal Prime Relational (0)-FractalFunction.
Enjoy this parting day
I have so loved beginning again together,
our mutually co-invested Creation Story.
Enjoy our continuing
final farewell day.
Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016
Jane Merchant (2)
Invalid of flesh (but not of soul),
She saw Creation whole,
And hymned the seasons come to pass
Beyond her bedroom window-glass—
December trees—and April rain-wet grass.
Jane Hess Merchant was born in 1919 on a dairy farm outside of Knoxville. She was the
youngest of four children. Her family lived on farms in Knox County and Jefferson County
until she, her mother, and her sister Elizabeth moved to Knoxville after her father's
death in 1949. Jane was confined to her bed at age twelve due to the congenital bone
disease Osteogenesis Imperfecta, which made her bones extremely brittle and thus prevented
virtually all physical activity. Indeed, what little of the outside world Jane saw was
from her parents' arms when they carried her outside as a child. The same disease that
confined Jane to her bed also caused her to go deaf at the age of twenty-three. She lived
with her mother and sister Elizabeth, who cared for her until her death.
Although many people may have considered Jane to be hopelessly crippled and thus to be
treated as an object of pity, she was extremely active in the literary world until her
death on January 3, 1972. She wrote more than 3,000 poems, over 2,000 letters, dozens of
prose pieces, and published ten collections of her poetry. Jane did not consider herself
pitiful in any way: as the Reverend Gordon Sterchi put it at her funeral, "no one who knew
Jane pitied her or thought her life dreary. They understood that her life was more joyful
that their's [sic]. They realized that she saw more from the bed than they saw from the
Copyright © Steve Eng | Year Posted 2009
You are my older Sister
You have been since I was born
I remember playing in your garden
And hearing your cockerel calling in the early morn
These things bring back great feelings
Memories of picking strawberries near the lawn
Playing in the river and walking in the lanes
Running through fields of corn
It’s now your Special Birthday
65 years since you was born
You are very Special to me
Like the birds singing in the morning dew
You are my oldest Sister
I love you through and through
I wrote you this little poem
I wrote it just for you
Now go out and celebrate
And have a drink or two!
Copyright © Eric Bidmead | Year Posted 2014
TREASURES OF YOUR SOUL
Just a reminder before I start…
This comes with Love from your Mother’s heart
It was Saturday September 1987
When my prayer specifications arrived from Heaven-
You see, long before I was your age I asked God to Bless me one day with a son
And that was how the thought of you had first begun
So, Twenty -one years ago to this day
You arrived…perfect and handsome in every way-
As baby and toddler you were way ahead of your peers
Showing wisdom and intellect beyond your years
Added to that a head of hair to astound
Made you without doubt, the best looking kid around
At 6 months old you said your first word-
Wait for it…”Ninja Turtle” is what we all heard-
This was hardly surprising in retrospect though
As your love of sword’s and sword -fighting started to show
You started to question us on everything in sight
No doubt in our minds, you were exceptionally bright
When your sister arrived you were almost three
Chat to Keelyn, and you will find she’ll agree…
That having a sister was no issue at all-
In fact you were her protector and mentor from the day she was born-
The love that the two of you share,
Is unique, very special, and extremely rare
As young adults you still nurture this bond with each other-
You make great siblings as sister and brother
I could write pages, so many things to relay
But here is the important stuff I need to say…
You care about your Faith, Family and Friends...
And still-- the heights of your Academic achievements know no end
From the day you could speak the sentence we heard most of all-
“When I grow up a Dr. will be my vocation and call”
Four years into your Medical degree
We realize how seriously you took that first plea
You learnt to discern from an early age between right and wrong
I am pleased to acknowledge in God’s Kingdom you firmly belong
I love you so much…a love that has no measure
To have you as a son - a gift from God I will always Treasure-
So as you celebrate this milestone age of Twenty-one
It goes without saying- you make us so proud to have you as a son
(Footnote: My son is now 25—a qualified Doctor, and firm in His Faith)
Copyright © Kim van Breda | Year Posted 2013
O Grunge Princess, I know today your love
brims over, idle, for the rebel boy
like weed you keep, unsmoked, sitting among
your secrets in a box; the smells they cloy
and force you into longing. Come what may,
Space Mermaid, your boy is just a dream.
He's not your happiness, nor is the way
he makes you feel--this illusion may seem
absolute, but first loves often do.
I know I cannot sway you with my words;
just remember: moments fizzle out, but you
will yet remain, just like your box of herbs.
When you learn to walk alone in power
your enigmatic buds begin to flower
Copyright © Jessamyn Duckwall | Year Posted 2015
I lost faith in the world for the shit I'd been through. Walking down highways, always confused. I think I've seen more happy families driving along the Trans Canada than I've seen in person. You ever take what someone important said to heart? You ever had your closest accomplice -- your sister "from another mister" -- leave you at the door, feeling colder than you ever had before?
You were a liar and it made my anxieties perspire and I trusted you to make it through but you never gave yourself a chance. I listened to you on your bed and you put your dreams in my head. Maybe it's funny but I kind of didn't have the heart to give you my honesty. Ya know, cause you'd build me up and never be there for me.
Remember when you had that nasty school bus rumor and I said I'd smash a bitch who talked shit like that to you again? I wasn't lying, I was telling the truth. When you say you're sisters, it means I'd be there for you.
Sure I admit I say some bad things but it's only 'cause you grew a bit and disappointed me. Bragging for dick when you're better than that. I know you had artistic dreams and I fueled them with high grade gasoline and tossed you the keys but you were afraid to leave with me. I just wanted to see you soar after all the open wounds Pencity let you wore. Take you away from all the bullshit and show my little sister some passion worth living for again.
But hey, I guess it doesn't matter if your siblings are blood related. They'll disappoint you in the end no matter where they came from. Either beat you down and lie to the cops or save you from being scared of making the wrong shots. Just thought you'd be there for me like I tried for you -- thought we were sisters, albeit scared little girls who grew up together in this confusing world.
Copyright © Rhea Laverdure | Year Posted 2014
I do not know?
Hello, It's me again.
I was wondering if your doing better.
I'm wondering how you've been.
I hope you don't mind my letter.
I heard that you have said,
That you want me dead.
Your own sister?
You should take your meds.
Really, I care about you,
but when you start making threats like you do,
I can't tell if you are really you.
I will ask who?
Can you stop being mean.
I can tell what you need.
You are losing it, you can't see,
You are becoming crazy.
Good Lord, I just want to check in.
Just telling you to stop shredding your skin.
Honestly in this war you won't win,
If you keep digging that blade in.
I heard you were inking your skin,
Covering up your scars with tattoos.
Soon you'll get blood poisoning.
Please remember that expensive purity ring.
I guess I've forgotten,
That you can't get better than you've been.
You hid in your deep, dark den,
And isolate yourself on your bed,
Just LISTEN to me!
I may be younger, but I'm wiser.
I can't believe you.
Multiple people love you, but you just push us away.
I won't make the mistakes your making,
I won't take the risks you're taking.
I will be unmistaken,
When I pick my path
I will be very sure,
Of the college and life I'll pursue.
And after that a job,
And marriage and family too.
But my first goal in life,
Is to finish out high school,
No guy problems,
And no being pregnant.
No drinking and driving,
Or drinking at all.
No smoking cigarettes,
Or weed no matter how small.
Always saying no,
To those I dislike,
Hope, You won't go far,
Doing what you like.
Again I'll say good-bye,
Because I can't stand anymore,
Thinking about all you've done,
In Failure's Galore.
But even though I say good-bye to you,
I must say the most important thing,
God loves you,
And I do too.
Copyright © Madelyn Nichols | Year Posted 2016
We took the bus together,
And arrived to a weather,
It seemed cold as space,
And hard to find a sleeping place. ‘Twas post UME.
Again from the same purse,
We boarded the same bus,
Took the shuttles,
To our hovels.
To a dear friend,
‘Tis bon anniversaire.
Copyright © Theophilus Ekpa | Year Posted 2016
They were loyal sisters.
was also more fair,
prettier in an Original Barbie kind of way.
She had been sick
when her younger,
more tomboy sister
met and first desired
my tall, dark, and handsome Uncle.
When older and fairest of all Sisters
after a long healthcare absence,
she too desired Uncle Handsome,
as did we all,
in our time and ways,
but Handsome's eyes never wavered again
once reset on older and fairest Sister.
Young darker Sister, left behind,
began to heal
when tall, dark, and handsome #2
and spoke smokey truths
But not too gentle.
Slow and steady; confident
integrity could heal all guilt
and prior disappointments.
These two Sisters
and their TD and H husbands
lived near each other
and grew old together
with unspoken neighborly mistrusts,
unresolved struggles with and about envy,
jealousies and jilts,
but also laughter and deep mutual regard.
Who can control chemistry,
Who can forgive,
and how long could this revolution take?
Yet even restrained love
can grow abundantly rich
with both age and generosity.
Younger and darker Sister
lost her husband to cancer
and then her memory,
while older fairest Sister and husband
moved into assisted housing
after reaching golden fifty years
Then good-natured patient waiting
to embrace final retirement,
a journey we each take alone,
as when we entered
except without Mom nearby,
or maybe this too remains the same, somehow.
Older ancient Barbie Sister
did not let go
until younger jilted Sister
quietly stopped breathing in her deep night sleep,
lost in memories not accessible by day.
Ten nights later
Barbie Sister passed out of embodied memories
in this same way.
Safe at last,
knowing it was then too late
for TD and H Uncle
to go back before that place
where they had started.
They say death comes in threes.
I wonder why.
Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2017
this own lee bro' thar of yars
dashed analogously graced
on par how a marathon runner raced
to Macbook Pro laptop computer post haste
soon as he goat back
to his domicile nestled and encased
in the bucolic, democratic,
and fantastic spit non defaced
woodland partially hydrogenated oils baste
surrounding Highland Manor Apartment our ace
in the hole, whence he i.e. mice elf
(Matty Mouse) with threads of gratitude laced
within a feeble attempt
to burble, cobble, fiddle, easy as gravy,
an insrutable letter placed
in the output queue
soon as all
the typo O graphical errors erased
and, though struggle to convey love
for such an endearing older sister,
which digitally squawking,
aye did not cut and paste
boot doth admit to allowing,
a saucy bit of small potatoes sayest
in ma trademark (truemark)
stuffing of fluffernutter (that taste)
(courtesy of flaky Tony the corny tiger),
which gimmerish aims to waste
juiced spare moments,
and tubby direct, earnest and frank
lemme communicate without resorting
but free roaming thoughts to thank
ye and Rich for welcoming a small group
of family and friends
to your Woodbury, New Jersey abode,
page number two:
somewhat near Redbank
to relish the salad days of times gone by,
when as kids,
we tricked each other with a harmless prank
such as hiding a fuzzy wuzzy Willie,
or scaring the other
with the molded Creepy People that doth rank
as laughably innocent, these topsy turvy times,
when faith no more
among fellow Americans to tank
especially as the world wide web
iz going to fill in the BLANK
thus moments to share
a tasty repast did help me to crank
out this artichoked gibberish,
which when placed
atop pyramid of cranberries sank.
as didst this heart of darkness
within soul asylum
of papa and momma genes
to two beautiful young women
re: daughters, whose absence
felt as gloomy fiends
similar to the Ogre encountered,
when goose that laid golden egg stolen
by Jack of beanstalk
of story book fame as a cash cow means.
Copyright © MATTHEW harris | Year Posted 2017