Passing through framed windows like ours,
I recall your tales of reckless war and lost friends
that burned your innocence at 21... and though
you claimed flashes of courage, moist eyes
poured vulnerability looking calm, undaunted.
We both searched deeply into our souls
as a father is to his young daughter, that I wanted
to let you know, it was alright;
but that mound of shoulders turned away.
Down the years as officer and gentleman,
Time stole long weeks, absent from your dining chair,
leaving me resentful and bitter on hardened sills
until you arrive under crawling dock of stars.
But in free moments, how you cherished
me so; waking my cheeks at 3 am to race the winds,
to fly with a shooting neon, laughing with a blue moon.
You spoke of faith and honor if life dared a shame, oh
mild scent of your arms cuddling my girlish dreams...
until off you rode suddenly on heaven’s wheel.
I see you through all framed windows like ours,
that even if my iced breaths needed you more
as small flowers thirsted for rain, my anger was a cry
for love’s company... “ I have adored you
in moments of distance and nearness, if not
always, then for all eternity.”
Have I forgotten to open this, my soft, broken sigh?
Dad, everything is all right.
Ir0nic Zink's Your Personal Favorite Poem Contest
Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2013
* Written for my daughter, who really does have a precious pair of Little Yellow Socks.
Little Yellow Socks
by Amy Swanson 12/5/2008
Little yellow socks
running down the hall
"Slow down with those socks on,"
I'd yell... too late, the fall!
Little yellow socks
padding softly late at night
climbing up into my lap
one more hug, out goes the light.
Little yellow socks
follow me with squeals of laughter;
Oh how she loves to run in them,
Begging me to come chase after!
Little yellow socks...
now not being worn a lot.
My little girl is growing up,
No longer just a tot.
Little yellow socks
will be cast aside someday
I must guard these precious moments;
in my heart, they'll safely stay.
Copyright © Amy Swanson | Year Posted 2008
Strobe lights loud music
silver glitter balls
reflective tiny stars
dot the dance floor hall.
She was grinding and pumping
body toned tight and fast
she was the centre of attention
her choice her last dance.
She expertly glided
up and down the polished pole
her red satin outfit
simply amplified the show.
As she flawlessly moved
to the chants of the men
drawing into herself
shone a dazzling grin.
Becoming one with the pole
giving it her very all
this was her last song
head high standing tall.
As she smiled and waved
searching deep within her core
for this one final bow
were loud whistles and roars.
She quickly grabbed her outfit
running to the door backstage
in the comfort of her robe
kissed a picture daughter Paige.
I did this for you
my sweet baby girl
for college bound you are
with the money I have earned.
The men cheered loudly
she reached her last goal
turning from the mirror
freely flew her soul.
Copyright © Lynn Marie | Year Posted 2006
Here further down the hillside slope
Down close to the creek with hope
My husband bought a house, land
Fenced in and made many plans
Subdued the land to cow pasture
And planted a garden, fruit trees sure
Fathered another child to call him sir
The creek seemed to like the stir
Enjoyed the children for a little while___
Loved them so that it made her smile
Today she loves grandchildren the same
No girls there are in frills ___tame
The creek keeps on flowing to the sea
The land is mostly stripped of trees
(This is my adaptation of Robert Frost's poem "The Birthplace". I hope that it does not insult
Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2010
Tell me of your peace.
Let it tell your story now
Of trials and tribulations, a tale not of dreams
Weary from a journey of self-discovery
My child, know the comfort in your peace
You feel hope in this familiar place
As it gently sloughs the pain away
Tell me of your peace
In which we all are blessed and free
Search throughout your soul sweet child
Peer not within your cluttered mind
Look out to rest your tired eyes but do not let them see
Solace found strewn upon daily thoughts is fleeting at it's best
Lasting merely moments, in untouched souls a true peace
Oh yes! You'll know when you arrive but only you will know
The world will melt away as a candle left under the blazing sun
Away away, until you feel home again, an unguided familiar scene
An innocence once lost is restored, all sins suddenly forgiven
Soaking this in with relucant ease,
Breathe it deep with a slow release
Take it in, delight in details you discover
Be calm here child, please have no fear, I am here
You are safe in this place of yours, no hurt no tears
We share not the same peace, no no
Unique to each of us, yet stranger to none
Trust in more than what you see, know beauty is within reach
We share this unspoken bond of freedom from ourselves
Please young one, listen closer now
I say, leave it all behind you love, it will only weigh you down
Cleanse yourself of careless words and careful lies
I know you're weary, let go of all you carry
Don't be afraid, here you are burden free
Trust in you, blessed one, it's easier than you believe
Sweet child, tell me now if you see
Peace resting deep within
Waiting for you
For you to let it be
Copyright © Gabrielle Charisse | Year Posted 2013
One evening, much like any other
striated feathers of pinks, and deepest primrose
colored the clouds with facets of light, tapering inward
Traces of gold between each color, as deep and clear as the sages
The red sun overhead, had grown weary with seasons,
and did not seem to notice that we were mother and child
Whispering sounds of emerald breezes
did not label me wise, nor her naive'
We were two who walked equally, side by side
She lifted her voice,
and spoke with an eloquence I had not heard before,
and it was just as the twilight calls to the stars....
so that they will know just what to do
Young spruces stood bolt upright,
every twig stiff with interest,
and with deep respect at her every word
as if they were watching transformation in tandem,
an exchange so delicately detectable
And in one clinging moment, to the other,
one of us was letting go of childhood,
and one was letting go of the child
Both of us looking to the sky for recognition
I watched the sycamore shed, beneath its load of yellow, rust and gold
Letting them quietly go, without remorse
while I did the same
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2013
I do not know?
I never did the
''He loves me not....
He loves me'' game
I already knew nobody loved me
so why should I listen
to a stupid flower?
I did make wishes
after the bloom died
and it was tiny spikes of fluff
waiting to blow away
till next year.
I hated wasting my time
but I couldn't resist.
''If there's even a small hope
that this will work....
I've got to try! ''
I would find a spot
where nobody could see me
and I'd whisper
my one wish
the same wish
Thousands of dandelions
by my pleading breath.
I never told a soul
I wished to be happy
with a husband
who loves me
and kids who love me.
I wished so hard...
I never thought
Copyright © Mary Nagy | Year Posted 2006
The rules said “one parent not two”
Good for me as I only had you
No selection; no one to choose
Who is this parent; just follow the clues
Next rule; write something “profound”
Something good or something that makes you frown
This one was easy
Considering all you ever said was greasy
“You stupid _____”
This one was rich
“Go get the belt”
Not satisfied till there was a welt
The pain is still felt
How about “you swine”
Became a preference in time
Not “go to bed”
Followed by a blow to the head
So hard could have become brain dead
Your scars are still here
Your pain I still wear
Your mistakes I still bare
Your voice I still hear
Your secrets I now declare
Your presence I no longer fear
Your wrong doings I am aware
Your hate is replaced with tender loving care
Did you follow the clues
Who's this in reference to
Someone you want to be related to
Perhaps it’s someone you already do
This is my parent… I wish it were untrue!
**For "My Parent" contest sponsored by Francine Roberts.
* Honorable Mention
Copyright © Walayee Poet Lay Whitlock-Ishway | Year Posted 2010
by Amy Swanson
Running to me
with big hugs
and even bigger brown eyes
smile full of mischief
arms thrown around my neck
--- almost choking me!---
"I love you Mommy!"
my little "Long-Legs"
how fast you have grown.
Almost as tall
as your short mama
*but then that wouldn't take much*
remembering a time
when my little Long-Legs
... my long-legged girl...
had little bitty
just learning how to toddle around the house
crawling faster than I could walk
running to keep up with her...!...
purple baby food plums smeared across a happy smiling mouth
full of giggles
with no idea how cruel this world can be;
Oh how time flies.
She's nine next week
toddler toys long gone;
she wants a bike
so she can ride like the wind --
already the taste of freedom in her mouth
already the feel of freedom in her spirit
away from me.
But she knows
I will always
*and, somehow, forever*
watch over my little girl
even when she is no longer little.
She smiles at me
teeth slightly crooked
hair brushed all by herself
and asks "Do you like my style?"
already planning her fashion agenda
like every "big girl" does.
My almost-nine year old girl
born on lucky clover day
March 17th, 2000
the day she changed my life
so grown up, so soon...
and I know more is on the way.
What I don't know
is how this mother's heart will fare
when one day she leaves.
You make my life complete
full of tickles and giggles
I love you so,
my little Long-Legs.
Copyright © Amy Swanson | Year Posted 2009
am so special
won't suck you dry
need to be someone
have such anger
am a stranger
to myself, myself
I promise to me
to let myself be free
I WILL do better
I WILL forget
the things said
be better, no regret
I will be better
I already am
Copyright © janetta harrington | Year Posted 2008
The endless time glass
where stars drop like sand and rain
Copyright © Stuart Andrew | Year Posted 2016
How do I write my love upon the moon?
How do I
Tell how a father's trust upon you swoon
Your silence where belonging longs?
I so old
Fashion, filled with forms so clothed in wrongs
Telling of the heart weakens fiber of the man
The pain in me is more than you can understand
Of a fear
That if I relent you may in my weakness fall
And leave me
More desolate that Christ before he drank his gall.
O this love
A wave incessant in tidal force against the rock
Makes the sands
That runs determinant in my crystal clock.
Copyright © L'nass Shango | Year Posted 2009
I I I
I Not Afraid
F At All
L Be Free
w m Curviest
i a Thing you’ve
l k Ever Seen
d e Self-Esteem
s Is higher than
E Love flows deeper
N Surges Greater
c Than any river
r Emotions as unchanging as the sea
a Modern Day
z Super Hero
y Working hard
I To defeat
L Sexual Inequalities
D Worthy of stealing
Any man’s fancy
[Dedicated to the Women, the strong, the brave, the merciful]
[The Mothers, the Daughters, the Wives]
[ the women who make up our lives]
Copyright © Bella Cardenas | Year Posted 2007
A Mother’s Love…
How precious is the love
of a mother’s heart!
Even as a child… It’s there from the start.
A mother’s love knows
no boundary or limit.
It’s often shown by how
much the mother gives it!
Whether her children are
young or growing old…
And whatever circumstances
in life may unfold…
Her love is continually
a solid foundation…
That can’t be removed, torn or shaken.
Her love is what is
a “guiding force…”
Even if her children’s lives
stray “off course.”
I’m thankful for the love
my mother’s given…
It’s surely influenced
the way I’ve been livin’!
To all of our mothers across
our great nation…
May we show them our love
Their love has stood and
endured the test of time…
I’m so glad that one of them is MINE!
By Jim Pemberton
Copyright © Jim Pemberton | Year Posted 2013
The more I try to reassure my mother,
The more she suspects...
The concerns and cares I shoulder,
I conceal and collect.
Her ears keen to the notes I offer,
My anxiety she dissects.
Taking on more as I grow older,
Less her fear affects.
Understanding her and less eager,
I share all; she accepts, connects.
Copyright © Misheel Chuluun | Year Posted 2012
Elegy to Child Lost
Passion's love oft tempts despair
Casts a prideful cosmic dare--
Like Prizing Joy's most intimate caress
Babe snug beneath a mother's breast
Senses at this time are keen
There's no secret kept between
Loving mother, wriggling babe--
Wanted , dreamed of, much delayed
But entwined twin was also loved--
Some say Nature's method proves
That one twin may give all to mate---
But this fatal sacrifice must decimate.
Only mother's eyes would feel babe's smiles--
or sense those legs that wandered miles
And daring feet that danced in tunes while
Arms swam in gentle Celtic croons.
When babe vanished--not a sound.
Mother 's grief was not allowed.
Tempted so to trail behind
Escaping shattered troubled mind.
Squelching sorrow's hungry arms
She Tried erase babe's fluttering charms
Never spoke of-- never mourned.
By her husband she was warned
Was best forget a child so early lost--
Funerals, gravestones--such a cost--
But the years have called babe near,
Mother's journal writ in tears:
'Please forgive my selfish heart.
Repressed from all --this tragic part
I felt your sacrificial act--
You left your cherished twin intact'.
There is no law of random acts
Doctors examine data facts
It may be --that in the womb
When both spring flowers cannot bloom
One bold twin refrains to eat
Compels the other to complete
Hardy growth that life requires---
Sparks survival's crucial hours.
Not an accident 'tis sure--
Boldest spirits blossom pure.
Victoria Anderson-Throop ©
Copyright © Victoria Anderson-Throop | Year Posted 2012
I do not know?
I found myself.
I remembered who I am…
or who I used to be.
I remembered that
I was strong.
I was a fighter.
I was a survivor.
I was steel.
but I would never break.
I remembered that
I am my father's daughter.
And I don't need someone,
to lift me up,
to carry me,
to save me.
I can lift myself up.
I can overcome anything.
I can save myself.
I am my father's daughter.
Our family crest,
It is what he believed.
What he lived
and it is what I honour.
What I won't ever forget.
I am strong.
I am a fighter.
I am a survivor.
I am steel.
but I won't ever break.
And I don't need saving.
I can save myself, thank you.
that to my innermost core,
I am…my father's daughter.
Copyright © Lori Thomson | Year Posted 2010
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
Lord, I do not know what to do;
Please, lead me by Your side.
Decisions I'm facing are lost and through;
Please, lead me to do what's right.
Copyright © Kevin C. Martin | Year Posted 2013
my daughter’s short birth
becomes the perfect haiku –--------
life free of the cut
Copyright © Cyndi MacMillan | Year Posted 2012
Play The Radio
Get Up And Dance All Night Long
Music Heals The Soul
Copyright © humble b | Year Posted 2012
I keep my dreams and aspirations,
stored away neatly in this box.
Tied off with a pretty pink ribbon,
secured tightly with key and lock.
And every time I feel like a failure,
I open it, so I can again feel alive.
Arms of dreams tightly surround me,
giving me strength I need to survive.
I’ve hidden this box in a secret place,
where I’m the only who can see.
A beautiful box of hopes and dreams,
finely sewn with love at the seams.
This box is opened quite frequently,
especially when we’re apart –
this rhetorical box of memories,
in perfect synch with each beat of my heart
Copyright © Stacy Stiles | Year Posted 2012
LIFE IS A PLAY – JOURNAL XV
But there is a meadow
I would see in a dream
With wild flowers rife
The most in a dream I’ve ever seen
For the view spreads endlessly
The golden bloom never fades
But stops only at some foothills,
Rolling, receding like ocean jade
The sky – and I under – a so deep light
I’d have me lay right down
Lost in its vast, interstellar view
As seeker I’ll invent me a stream
One that invitingly froths and bubbles
That I may lay down,
Float away all life’s troubles
Oh, maker of plots
I yearn to see a land far away
Where soul only resides
And happiness, peace name of the play
Copyright © daver austin | Year Posted 2014
I cannot get into heaven
God I have tried!
Suicide is a double edge sword
Especially when you survive!
Walking the streets at night
Dazed and confused
Longing to be loved
When is Mum, coming for me?
"Does she still love me?"
"Does she still care?"
"Does she still think of me?"
"Does she wonder, where I am?"
I want her to come find me
I want her to say she 'loves me’
I want her to comfort me
I want her to take me home
And keep me safe
And not forget hat I exist
Like the way she treats me now
I wish God
Could make my Mum
Making this hellish nightmare
On the street
“Send my Mum please!”
So, all this can end!
Before this last ray of hope
Diminishes for good!
I don’t want to become
The walking dead
Forever forgotten as if
I was never born!
For this is the cruel, harsh reality
Of living life, feeling unloved
Uncared for, abandoned,
Left to fend for my own
A dangerous killer inside me
Eating away, at my soul
Something, no one can see
As I suffer in silence
My insides crippling!
Lost, alone and frightened
Weeping on a dirty
Graffiti park bench
Rolling down my cheeks
Stuffing newspapers under my jumper
To keep myself warm
“What am I going to do?”
“Will I make it through the night?”
“Will I get raped and beaten?”
"Will I be left for dead?”
“Will I survive
To see another day?
“Is my life worth living?”
Please God, I beg of you
Have mercy now
Please show me the way!
Copyright © Amy Rose | Year Posted 2013
Outside My Window
I sit on Dad's heavenly bed as I pen this write
The mournful heart looks outside
The window which for the moment is mine
I view with his eyes and the heart inflates
The orchard is blooming ready for fruiting, but
The hedges look wild while lawn's not mowed
His cane chair is empty while mother is beside
The newspaper lies folded on the tea-tray with specs
The tangerines in pots dangling near to death
None to tell my brooding dear mother
'Preserve them in bottles before the season is out'.
September 12, 2015
Contest: Outside My Window
Sponsor: Bev Smith
Copyright © Balveen Cheema | Year Posted 2015
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
I’m not the kind of person I need to be!
There’s too many problems inside of me!
I’m not the kind of person you’d want to know…
I’ve too many worries and a troubled soul!
I’m the kind of person who has a lot of stress!
Lately, my life has been one big mess!
I’m the kind of person who doesn’t have a friend.
You listen to me now…
But may never see me again!
I’m the kind of person who’s gone through pain!
I wake up some days,
and don’t even know my name!
I may not be the kind of person you’d
want to be around.
I may get discouraged, and “get you down.”
I’m the kind of person who’s giving Jesus a chance…
I know he loves me! Whatever the circumstance!
I’m the kind of person who needs a lot of prayer!
I know that God listens! And is always there!
Please help me Jesus! That I may be set free!
May it be your love that others will see!
Thank you Jesus! For being my savior and friend!
You’re someone that this person can always depend!
I’m not the kind of person that Jesus wants me to be!
That’s why I need more of HIM!
And LESS of me!
By Jim Pemberton
Copyright © Jim Pemberton | Year Posted 2013
It Almost Seems Like Yesterday…
It almost seems like yesterday, I was very young.
I was playing with my friends and having so much fun!
It almost seems like yesterday, we were a loving family!
I was excited about life and so very content and happy!
It almost seems like yesterday, we were at church on Sunday!
How much I dreaded gong to school the next Monday!
It almost seems like yesterday, I’d go to work with grandpa!
I’d look forward to having some time with grandma!
It almost seems like yesterday, I’d read my Bible too!
I loved Jesus! And this was what I waned to do!
It almost seems like yesterday, an excitement was there!
A passion for my family and God, I wanted to share!
It almost seems like yesterday, that I met my sweet wife.
And the blessing she’s been for a good part of my life!
It almost seems like yesterday, when our kids were born.
God helped us through the many trials and storms!
What happened yesterday brings memories loud and clear.
The things I hold on to today shall one day disappear!
What happens today… May it bring me
to the God I once knew!
May I seek his will and direction In everything I do!
What happens tomorrow… I don’t know what the future brings!
I’m going to put my faith in God.
He’ll take care of everything!
What will happen today, is that I’ll take some time in prayer!
I know that God is faithful!
And will meet me there!
Yesterday is the past!. Today is a present God has given!
And I will follow him, each day I'm livin'!
By Jim Pemberton
Copyright © Jim Pemberton | Year Posted 2012
see this blank
Copyright © janetta harrington | Year Posted 2007
So many thoughts come to mind
If only I could really go back in time
Change or undo my life’s violent and sexual crimes
Tell those around me to open their eyes
Pay Attention to the signs
If only one wish could really rewind
Those pedophilic hands of my life-time…
Then I stopped and started to think
Who would I be if this didn’t happen to me?
What of the woman I’d come to be
The wisdom I’d come to see
And my children who’s lives are abuse free
As a result of my past… my history…
Now, with eyes wide and mind free
Heart pounding, air, LOVE and life in me
Blessed with children to change my legacy,
Equipped with words and strength to share my story… my poetry
I’d wish only to open the eyes of the blind
The mouths of the abused and the hearts of our society…
I’d make them see… I’d make them see
So no other child has to end up like me…
** For the "If I Had One Wish Contest"
Copyright © Walayee Poet Lay Whitlock-Ishway | Year Posted 2011