Bestowed with femininity,
wisdom, elegance, and grace,
exemplifying dignity, daughter of the human race.
X chromosome integrity
ordains attributes endowed,
according by propensity, a nature kind and proud.
Beauty and vitality
anoint her noble gender,
magnum opus artistry imparts celestial splendor.
Her marvelous complexity
gives complementary disposition
to valiant masculinity for a perfect coalition.
yields licentious pleasure due
the wanton sensuality of erotic pas de deux.
woman becomes by thy behest,
sacred vessel of posterity, with honor ever blessed.
Copyright © Thvia Shetley | Year Posted 2010
I was blessed to know a woman in my life
Who faced hard times, struggle, and strife.
A Chinese immigrant, she came from a poor town
Lost her husband, was kept from her daughter, but not kept down.
She had three other children who were born here
Getting them a better life was her biggest fear.
She had to fend for herself and them alone you see,
Speaking little of the language in this foreign country.
But, she had always lived a determined life
So she fought back...with a fork and a knife.
She opened a restaurant in a small community
Where her gracious manner made her friends instantly.
Her children would grow up in town with new friends
The restaurant she opened was the mean to her ends.
She worked very hard...sometimes eighteen hours a day
She never complained because that was her way.
Her life's expectations knew more successes sublime
The restaurant grew...one egg roll at a time.
She once told me of the anxiety she felt at the money she'd spent...
Laughing said, "My uncle said sell 2 qts of Chop Suey/Day...you've got the rent."
She was a woman who chose kindness as she felt had to her been shown
To people far and near her generosity was known.
She was thankful that she had the opportunity
To give back with love rather than animosity.
I first met her over some 30 years back
She struck me from the that moment as a person who had the knack
To make others feel at home though strangers they be
She certainly did, because she did it to me.
I still remember her caring for me...it was shown
Once caught in a blizzard, she opened her home.
So often was there a path to this woman's door
Though she stood, less than 5 foot 4.
Her heart was as big and wonderful as one would want
An earthly angel, she was heaven sent.
Though her health began to wane later in life
She never gave in to that world of strife.
Her eyesight began to fail and it was difficult for her to see
But that didn't stop her or her generosity.
She loved people and filled everyone with cheer
Ever thankful that she had had a life here.
Though she is gone I'll never forget her face
Or her love of life, devotion to family, and unstoppable pace.
To me I'll ever be thankful to have had the joy
Of calling her "Ma" ... ONE IN A MILLION~was Connie Moy!
1st Place Winner - "One in a Million" Poetry Contest
Copyright © Daniel Cwiak | Year Posted 2010
God’s Cleansing Tool
Cloud-Concerto… How Cool !
Plop-Plop Plopping into Pothole Pools
On the Grass, Pavements and On My Own-Sweet- Fools…
who, don’t have Sense enough, to get out of the Rain…
… I think I’ll go Join Them… Again
Copyright © MoonBee Canady | Year Posted 2009
Many years ago, when we were all young,
We really thought life, would be so much fun.
While playing dress-up, trying on mom’s stuff,
Putting on make-up, we found to be tough.
Then came our schooling, and boy things would change,
“Those aren’t our parents”, when they acted strange.
Sometimes they were hip, but old-fashioned too,
That’s something I swore, I would never do.
Wishing you were older, adults had it made,
They would do nothing, yet still would be paid.
That is how little, we all had known,
We surely found out, once we were grown.
Loving the twenties, we’d go out with friends,
When we went shopping, we followed the trends.
Doing what we wanted, and staying out late,
It didn’t matter, what time we all ate.
Then came the thirties, and most of us wed,
Watch what you wish for, my parents had said.
We had to work hard, many bills to pay,
I guess they were right, what more can I say?
Raising your children, was hardest of all,
Needing some advice, your parent’s you’d call.
It seemed so easy, they needed no rest,
So now it’s your turn, you learned from the best.
The forties arrived, that was a shocker,
We’d spend lots of time, just at the doctor.
Back aches and headaches, so tired you’d be,
Trying not to cough, or else you would pee.
The fifties would come, and your grandkids too,
Where were your glasses? You hadn’t a clue.
You searched here and there, and under the bed,
“Hey grandma” they laughed, “They’re right on your head”.
Here come the sixties, now let’s have some fun,
You are retired; your work is all done.
To dinner with friends, you dressed and you wait,
They never show up, you have the wrong date.
Now the seventies, with friends playing games,
If only you could, remember their names.
You try hard to hide, those under-eye bags,
Gravity happens, and everything sags.
Enjoy every day, and have a good laugh,
All the steps you took, led down a new path.
Live life as it comes, each year a new page,
One thing is for sure, everyone will age.
Copyright © Kelly Zakerski | Year Posted 2009
Since first I saw you, it was your eyes,
mesmerizing, your gaze transporting
me to a realm, not of fantasy, real,
where young men go when cupid’s
arrow takes root.
Since first I saw you, it was your lips,
captivating, holding me frozen
in anticipation of our lips brushing
for the first time.
Since first I saw you, it was your voice,
a crescendo, light, invigorating,
each word you speak intensifies
my hearing, enveloping each
note, time ceases as I hang motionless
Since first I saw you, it was your hair,
long, flowing, gently rising above
your shoulders as a slight breeze
passes through sending waves
of your essence my way.
The sun magnifying each strand,
highlighting the minute
variances of invigorating color,
creating a halo effect, a portrait of
your beauty forever imprinted.
Since first I saw you, It was you,
my love forever more for you,
Copyright © Mac McGovern | Year Posted 2010
So young myself, I was naive'
Without a doubt, I did believe
the babe, then latched inside my womb
was bound to me, and would always be
Latched on, was he, as he was fed
Then later on, our hands instead
Not tall enough to open gates
I'd reach the latch for his escape
In time he grew to need more space
The bond we had, would stretch in place
With loving smiles, I watched him play
He longed to grow, and threads grew long
He reached to climb, and fly the wind
Yet ties remained, still ever strong
Years would pass, too soon, a man
Old ties would change, yet carry on
Love came along, as it should be
My eyes, if wise, must let it be
This union blessed, was good to see
Her love for you, the world could see
It didn't mean my son was gone
Songs are sung when lovers part
But no song for a mother's heart
When new adventures come one day
Those new roads take him far away
The man he is, has been set free
To be the man he wants to be
The child he was is never gone
She's letting go, yet holding on
If once, one wish were mine to choose
So many do my thoughts pursue
But one within my heart still yearns
If just one day, the clocks would turn
Together you and I would be
Sitting here among the trees
I would hold you close, upon my knees
then turn you loose, to join the leaves...
First Poem Submitted To Poetry Soup
Written not long after the weddings of all three of my children
who were all married within 1-1/2 years of each other!
I must have been feeling the empty nest blues and all the changes that came along ! :)
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2008
“Well,” She asked; her eyes wide. Beads of hot sweat glistening on her brow like miniature
crystal suns. Her angst was palpable. “What is it!”
The air was still. There were no words. Just the sound of bodies breathing in – and
“Congratulations.” He held out his arms, handing the mother, her baby, “You have a son.”
The moment shone like glass in the center of the heavens – pure and eternal.
It was redemption from every wrong thing she’d ever done.
It was the shining eyes of God smiling onto her exhausted face; lighting it with hope.
It was the only place there was – the only time, the only space.
It was the only feeling that existed.
They were the only two incarnate souls in the room; on the planet, and in the universe.
This was her child –
And she was his mother.
(there are no words for such things. suddenly, I feel like an intruder. there are too many
eyes, words and moments here. so it is here, I take my leave; leaving this mother and the
only soul in her universe to their perfect moment. they will have many more moments in this
lifetime; but none as sacred, as human, or as eternal as the first look from life to life;
mother to child; heaven to earth, as the very first. None.)
“It’s a boy.” she whispered. Her throat a crumbling tunnel; stunned, but not really. Like
she’d known it all along. “My baby boy…” She smiled into his ancient, brand-new face;
tracing his delicate cheek with the back of her finger. “He’s perfect.”
She ran her palm along the bottom of his soft, miraculous foot, and laughed. “Look at
your feet – they’re huge!”
And as she wiped the tears with the heel of her shaking hand – smearing what was left of
her mascara - she looked in to his, as close to heaven as one can get, eyes, and said, “Hi.
I’m your mama.” He smiled at her. He knew. He’d known it all along. “And I’ll love you
The world closed its shades then. Leaving the sacred to its history; the moment to
eternity; and their universe to its quiet, little room.
*Inspired by Deborah's, You Must Have Been A Beautiful Baby, contest; and every mother
who has graced this sacred room.
Copyright © Kristin Reynolds | Year Posted 2009
I had a little talk with God,before I sat down in front of my computer today
He told me how much He loved me,and showed me all the different ways
When you were in a car accident with your parents,and still quite tiny
I gave you two broken legs when you really shouldn't have any
When your mother left you,and they came and took you away
I gave you loving parents,with a mother that still loves you to this day
When I wanted you to see the world,and all of it's beautiful scenes
I gave them time to take you,to see the places of most peoples dreams
When you needed friends in life,with so many wrong ones you could choose
I gave you wisdom on how to treat them,giving you friends you wouldn't loose
When you were drunk and being foolish,which to me was too many times
I allowed your mind to heal,so you could write messages with these rhymes
When you needed a wife because you felt you were running out of time
I gave you a loving woman,the closest,and most honest one I could find
When it comes to family and friends you have more then most people need
I gave you them all because of your love,and for living without the sin called greed
Now if your mind should grow weary,look for me within your heart
It's there that I have always been for you,right from the very start
With love your life was given to you,as well as with all the people you see
It's the one thing that evil can't tax,and it will always remain forever free
Copyright © Dan Kearley | Year Posted 2012
I have come to accept the possibility
that I, myself, may be partially to blame (my compost pile of shame)
that I may have stroked the very wheel (unable to feel)
that, set in motion, is the cause of
so much pain (unsheltered in the rain)
Silently suffering through endless winters (embers, cinders)
without anticipation of Spring (hope an ethereal thing)
blind to Mother Earth's gifts (tenuous unfelt shifts)
the colors, the scents of her blossoms (habitually playing possum)
deaf to the melodies of the birds (knowledge lost, language
as they sing
She calls to me but my barriers are thick (mentally stunted, physically sick)
densely scarred and wounded (as I am, to the quick)
As the sludge chokes the seabirds (screaming their lost words)
and the fishes (murdering Piscean wishes)
as Her forests are cleared by those
both greedy and vicious
I feel Mother Earth tremble (demons assemble)
beneath my feet
hear Her sigh as I place a hesitant finger (shaking, letting it linger)
on Her weakened pulse
thready and irregular
We are killing Her, Mother Earth,
mother of us all, matricide (no longer can we hide)
listen, listen to Her heartbeat...
I may have stroked the very wheel...
Copyright © Danielle White | Year Posted 2010
On a slope graced with green
White marble stands in proud salute
For beneath these engraved pillars of memory
Lie the resting places of heroes
A solitary green fir looks down
As if sheltering the lost and the taken
So many names, from all walks of life
A father, brother a girlfriend or wife
On a sunny day, they glow radiant like their lives
On a dull day, they stand out against the greys
For the living, life goes on
Tomorrow is another day
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2010
~Harridan in a Housecoat~
Four small children sent for care as their mother was taken so ill
No father could they reach for them so they were sent off at someone’s will
In the night taken from their beds, no word spoken, hearts full of dread
Taken to a town far away and not knowing what lay ahead.
A huge housecoat descended down like a crow devouring road kill
At the side stood a henchman, pointed nose, dark hair, and vengeful
Warning words left in theirs ears "be good or else there will be trouble"
“No one wants you now you know, not your parents” she burst that bubble.
The housecoat and the henchman dealt out their ghastly deeds
To three of the children she vented her spleen, her willing helper dealt her needs
The fourth child the baby, she showered with kisses and good food to eat
She bought her clothes and dressed her well, and spoke to her words so sweet.
The three all under the age of six did dread each and every night
When scrubbed with scrubbing brushes, their skin looking red raw and tight.
She had to get the scum off them because they were now in care
It was obvious that no one loved them, that’s why they were there.
Frightened and timid were the three, but the youngest was well looked after
Jealousy did form in the minds of the three - it robbed them of their laughter
The harridan in the housecoat with her willing henchman
Thought up little tortures finding the Achilles’ heels in each child one by one.
The housecoat and the henchman were in for big surprise
When the father sent for the children, she couldn’t believe her eyes
Bribery she tried on the siblings so the children would never tell
But there is not one that would condemn her to her well preached hell.
The housecoat and the henchman a mother and daughter no less
A good churchgoing family with their holy pictures to bless
Evil in their deeds of torture and of mental games
The harridan in the housecoat and the daughter with no name.
© ~GG~ 6/08/2012
Copyright © Mandy Tams The Golden Girl | Year Posted 2012
How Can We Hurt The Ones We Love?
How can we hurt the very ones that we love?
How can we easily neglect our God above?
It seems like I often heard about many victims
Many times, it’s from a loved one who’s been with them!
The hate and the anger that boils from deep within.
Often “boils over” toward our family and friends.
It’s the love of Christ that we need to find!
His love can totally cleanse our life and mind!
The hearts of many families are bruised and broken.
By the harshness of many of the words spoken.
If we would allow Jesus to rule and reign.
We’d have little reason to murmur or complain.
If we would yield our lives to the master’s will…
The emptiness and brokenness, he shall fulfill!
If we could allow ourselves to sit at Jesus’ feet…
He can make any family totally complete!
If we could just listen to what Christ has to say.
His words of life would brighten our day!
As a family… Won’t you give HIM a chance?
And allow his love to change your circumstance!
Won’t you allow his spirit to bind you together?
You can experience his peace today and forever!
He can change your family throughout!
This is his will and what God is all about!
By Jim Pemberton
Copyright © Jim Pemberton | Year Posted 2012
If we read the gospel well,
We notice no one rang a bell,
To announce the saviour’d come,
And then when we learn of his mum,
There’s no mention of her donkey ride,
Or of the animals inside,
The stable were the child slept,
It does not tell us if he wept,
And of the weather? Did it snow?
Well we simply do not know,
It rarely snows in the West Bank,
Would be unlikely, to be frank,
And was Jesus born at night?
Did they at least get that part right?
Well it simply does not say,
It mentions not the time of day,
And that’s not all, not by far,
Shepherds saw Angels, Not a star,
It doesn’t say they gave a sheep,
(They were poor and lambs weren’t cheap!)
The Bible tells us many things,
But did not call the wise men Kings,
It doesn’t even call them men,
It only calls them magi then,
It says nowhere they numbered three,
Or if from the Orient they’d be,
It does say that our Lord arrived,
Lived a good life, was crucified,
Just to take away our sin,
So heaven will allow us in,
And this is the truth I will defend,
But just how can a footstep bend?
Copyright © Sharon Smith | Year Posted 2012
Inspired by; Constance La France’s Native American Portrait
Nikan is a man who once stood proud and true all across this land
in symbiotic relation with nature endowed by the great creators hand
passed onto him by his ancestors to never take more than his fair share
and always be kind to this land for it’s the Mother to all whom she shall bare
When times are lean we all will grow thin together for together we are one
with one voice to sing in harmony for bountiful harvest to our Father the Sun
and give him thanks and praise for warming and making fertile our Mother
who blessed new life into the birthing seasons for every Sister and Brother
Great spirit hear my song of hope that I sing for my people who will cry
we are mighty on the earth give us protection or your children they will die
and our people’s blood will flow upon our Mother like deep rivers of raging red
O’ Father I can see no solution will you spare us from the white mans dread
I could never make claim to imagine this great man’s woeful sorry or despair
Nikan's song is a lonely tune played for the spirit of his people upon the air.
Nikan traslation from the Potawatomi "MY Friend"
Baamaapii Nikan.......until we meet again my friend
Copyright © Edwin Baldwin | Year Posted 2011
The man with the plastic bug in his head
monopolized my dreams last night
in the place that the horsefly of my dignity
finally surrender to the impresario without a fight.
Seven days and 7 hours transplanted in my memorabilia
reminding the rustiness of the purple child
flatterers danced beneath the clouds of melancholy
and morality spreader the master plan inside my mind.
The disinheritance of my immortality the final day
discouraged my desire to see the forbidden love
restored my will to escape
manipulated the deep of the uncertainty above.
Released from the plastic bug in my head
try to cover my yellow child in the purple sky
seven days and seven hours before he dies.
Copyright © Teddy Frustiente | Year Posted 2009
Greet the little King,
who has been born in a cold manger
on the holiest of nights;
and by the glitter of a descending star,
He will spread peace in the land...
follow the shepherds and find that sight!
My gift to Him is my joyful song,
and with this clarinet I will usher in His coming...
walk side by side with the pretty angels and rejoice;
bring Him your gift, and surround Him with joy!
See the three Magi arriving on jewel-draped camels,
holding in their laps the gifts of His destiny.
A winter's night has always been completely bright,
every hill is hidden by darkness, but an heavenly light
appears across the frosty sky of Bethlehem, while divine
voices announce Emmanuel's glorious birth,
everyone wakes up and sees that star and follows it;
and where it stops, they find a baby without a crown.
Greet the Son of the Highest, the Wonderful Redeemer,
whom the Virgin Mary has borne in the humblest of places...
in the small town without a temple, or a palace for the Emperor,
where Mary and Joseph will train their child in Godly ways;
greet the little king, He will smile and invite you in,
and His smile will spread peace beyond the star-lit hill.
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2009
I do not know?
Mommy can you see me?
I can bounce really high!
Maybe with some bouncy shoes
I can visit you in the sky!
I'm seven years old now Mommy.
You've been gone about a year.
I can't wait to see you Mommy,
and your memories are near.
Mommy can you see me?
Oops- I failed another test.
But I remembered what you told me
and I tried my very best.
I'm ten years old now Mommy.
You've been gone about four years.
I really miss you Mommy,
and I wish you were here.
Mommy can you see me?
Dad went off on me again.
I slit my wrists to ease the pain,
I have scars all over my skin.
I'm fourteen years old now Mommy,
you've been gone about eight years.
Who are you anyways Mommy?
Thanks a lot for leaving me in tears...
Mommy can you see me?
I'm so glad I finally changed!
In accepted Jesus like you once did
so my life could be rearranged.
I'm sixteen years old now Mommy,
you've missed the past ten years.
But I'll see you in heaven Mommy,
and that helps me fight my fears.
Copyright © Ashley Beaudre | Year Posted 2009
She sat on the pavement as the world walked by
She's just another vagrant not a mum a daughter or wife
Claiming state benefits and living the high life ?
Sat on the pavement , a discharged mental patient .
She sat on a park bench as the world walked by
The office she once managed on the skyline
A bottle of cheap merlot gripped in her hand
sat on the park bench, just another alcoholic hitting the wine
She's sat in the squat, drug syringe in hand
with a twinge of regret she injects her right arm
as the cries of her baby can be heard in a far of room
Sat in her squat, just a drug addict hitting the highs.
invisible people all need to be helped
A simple good morning is all that it takes
a free coffee a sandwich or even a pound
they are people with feeling, lets give them a hand .
26042016 comp entry the invisible people I think of are real,just ignored by society and left to drown in their addictions
COMP ENTRY 24042016
Copyright © stephen pennell | Year Posted 2016
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 2011
the season I turned eleven
was the season that I died
there'd been blood betrayal and famine
and I thought I had survived
my neighbor killed my kitten
and for that I could not cry
my mother went to handle it
told me to stay inside
i sat poised in an armchair
trying to calm my mother down
while I could feel nothing
we knew she'd made him drown
the woman was a laundress
washed other people's clothes
didn't like the stink of pig sties
it offended her frail nose
the wash-board on the right side
where the pigs did have their homes
was the one she always gave me
like the left one was her own.
only when a pig was hanging
would she demand to trade
i'd wash next to a hog's corpse
a choice could not be made.
then one day I got angry
and I dared to move her clothes
i moved them to the right side
as the rage inside me rose
the woman tapped my window
and said your cat is dead
it was two days before Christmas
she roused me from my bed
there was display of feeling
tears could not be be shed
gray fades to black
hello sadness my old friend
Copyright © Lucrezia Blanche Aguilar | Year Posted 2006
Figures do not lie
So true, though also is this
Liars can figure
Copyright © cecil hickman | Year Posted 2010
I do not know?
As I remain here where I lie,
I keep asking that I will quickly die.
I hate this stupid self-centered life,
where all people are filled with hate & strife.
As my mom feels so wonderful from popping pills,
I'm stuck here with the worst gut-wrenching feeling that kills.
I'm sick of my life being filled with tears, cutting, & sadness.
Why can't we just end all the madness?
Why can't people have a life where no tears are seen, only laughs, smiles, & happiness.
And no one could intervene?
Copyright © Halee Britt | Year Posted 2011
She cried, She died inside over and over again, She was trapped in herself
and she had no way of escaping. Taking drugs to dull the mud that's been in her
for years. She's so far away from reality that it's like she is constantly
She has to remind herself what's fictional and what's fact because the
hallucinations wouldn’t let her breath, they’d lie to her every chance she gets.
Turning her mom into a monster not butterflies suddenly this high becomes a
nightmare. One she had been fighting for so long, 16 and still traveling the same
rode as so many younger than her. She didn't listen to all the voices that tried to
tell her what she was missing because truly reality is the thing that makes life
worth living. To her reality was the guy who had raped her constantly when she was
young, Why choose reality when you could live in a dream world where everything had
excuses. Not only could she not recognize the girl who cried constantly in the
mirror but she'd done so many things to herself that even her eyes were a different
It hurt so bad not to remember so she continued to fade until soon it seemed
In an idiotical world where there were always smiles, It wasn't until she got help
that she realized the real world was never always pleasant. It was filled with hate
and lies and pain but that's something real and something she needed to face.
Something she needed to open her eyes to, life would never be cake and she couldn't
have her victory without tasting poison at least once. So when the tears dried and
the wounds healed she signed up for a special thing a thing called GED and she got
Copyright © Shahana Jackson | Year Posted 2005
The father and son
Guiding the path of true faith
Love of a mother
Glorious pillar of strength
Wept at the foot of the cross
The Sedoka is an unrhymed poem made up of two three-line poems called a
katauta with the following syllable counts: 5/7/7, 5/7/7. A Sedoka, pair of katauta
as a single poem, may address the same subject from differing perspectives.
The katauta is an unrhymed three-line poem with the following syllable counts:
Copyright © Joseph Spence Sr | Year Posted 2006
Mother,today I'm on my own
thinking of what would i say
if you ever had to leave this world before me...
I hope you won't..but this is how it goes...
I thankyou for the empty Will,which is so full of you
I thankyou for your warmest smile,always serene and true
I thankyou for the riches ,you never left behind
that's sure a clever way, for our family not to fight
I thankyou for the empty will, full of sweetest memories
the kindness of your heart, lives in my realities
I thankyou for the only ring you left us in the drawer
a simple golden circle ,you lived loyal to, forevermore
I thankyou for the funny you, the laughter and long chats
the hearthy meals and yummy goods ,without any regrets
I thankyou for the songs you sang on times when i was sad
so many nights unslept,so close to my own bed
I thankyou for the devotion, for our only God above
you talked about Him in a way,that I believed in love.
Mother,you are the best example of how we all should be
many neighbours ,lonely people ,you've helped with blissful glee.
There are so many saints ,who did extraordinary things in life
then there are those humble people who did simple special deeds
there are those strong willed people who won each sacrifice
being the the best mother,the best sister,the best friend and the best wife.
Mother,there's a heaven a place where you should be
I know you are so happy there in waiting just for me
An emtpy Will i found which is so full of you
there's nothing I will change about,in anything you do.
P.s-Sometimes we feel to say loving words to those we love ,
to show them how special they are ,and its so very hard.
Sometimes we wait till they're gone to let our emotions show,
but i do believe to live life as it was my first day and if it was my last
and I do believe to share my love and thoughts whilst I still can...
Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2012
He stood there in the late afternoon rain
Holding his tin and thermus
In coal blackened hands
Hatless as the water ran through his hair
Streaking white tracks down his face
To zebra his cheeks and whiten the nape of his neck
The wet black hair clung flattened to his head
He turned his head up into the soft rain
In moments he was white again
That pale white white that seldom sees the sun
Winter white his mother called it sadly
He wondered what the woods were like
Where she so often went to harvest food
And all those other weeds she boiled or dried
Was it just last week that she had died?
Copyright © Donald Meikle | Year Posted 2007
He didn't like the casserole
and he didn't like my cake.
He said my bisquits were too hard
and not like his mother used to make.
I didn't perk the coffee right
and he didn't like the stew.
I didn't mend his socks
the way his mother used to do.
I pondered for an answer.
I was looking for a clue,
and then I turned around and smacked the hell out of him
just like his mother used to do.
Copyright © SillyBilly theKidster | Year Posted 2012
I do not know?
All I can do is wonder.
I'll never really know.
OI'll never get to hug her,
and she'll never see me grow.
When I wake up tommorrow,
this nightmare won't be gone.
I'll never have what I took for granted,
a chance to know my Mom.
I know I shouldn't cry,
because that won't bring her back.
It doesn't make up for the emptiness
or the love that I lack.
I'm almost grown up now.
I did it all by myself.
But I can't help but wish
I could be like everyone else.
I'm excluded from some "special bond"
and memories to be shared.
When all I ever asked for
was to have someone who cared.
The tearstains on my pillow
The only way I know her
is to see her in my dreams.
Daddy said she loved me,
but God called her home.
I don't know why he took her,
the only Mom I'd ever known.
I guess he has a hidden plan,
a reason I can't see.
I'm waiting for it to come together
and work out okay for me.
I hope I'll understand some day
just what God has in mind.
So no matter how much I miss my mother
I'll follow God's plan and be alright.
Copyright © Ashley Beaudre | Year Posted 2009
A person who feels about others
And speaks on their circumstances
And offers a better suggesions
To improve the damped system
To add fundamentalistic solutions
To delete opportunism aspects
To develop everyone’s share
To approach everyone’s contribution
To maintain progress and prosperity
To build a civil agenda to enjoy
Without any prejudice barrier
For our human dignity and regard
To differenciate humanism and animalism
To learn about patience and respect
To discuss a topic of learning
A natural behaviour and sophisticated
Developing approaches at same time
To recover the positive and negativeness
To establish distinctions of values
To identify a usefull and useless motives
To live with peace and satisfaction
To encourage further preparations
To secure and safe future
For beyond from newborn buddies
To provide good tools to develop
To understand a constructive problems
To dissolve wastage of recycling
To save extra energy for dangers
To refine pregressive thoughts
To share his doubts and gains
For a better carriage
Is known as a political person?
How do you feel to listen others?
Satisfaction is a matter for all.
Copyright © Daljit Khankhana | Year Posted 2005
kept the perch
we caught in a bucket.
And when we took them home
She would clean and place them
In our twenty gallon tank
Where they bobbed in stunned silence
Eyes watching for any white movement.
when they committed fishicide
on their domesticated tank-mates.
Even the little beta fish
Who had survived our six day pilgrimage from Florida, to find Mecca
was a cool whip container.
Whenever we had guests for dinner,
Mom swooned they
were the smartest fish she had ever seen.
She bestowed upon them names - Jed and Lucy
tapping at the glass
with one extended finger,
feeding them fish flakes,
like porpoises fed from the teeth of a trainer in Ocean World
“You can’t keep perch in a fish tank”
the guests would say,
they lived for two years
bobbing and staring
in the vacant tank space.
One crisp winter morning
Jed finished his breakfast of gold fish flakes, took one
last gulp of slimy tank
himself off of glass
over and over,
I almost thought
the glass would crack.
sat quietly and watched
She too died a few days later
like aged soulmates
who often cease
to be after their amor
When someone left the lid open,
her blue green skin shimmered
as she laid
making fish O’s in the dry air..
I often wonder
if the air that morning
like an ice floe
to a better place
somewhere Jed waited
with our beta and our angel fish
a place of worms, kelp
emptied the tank of the murky filtered water.
Rinsed the ultra neon yellow fish gravel,
and placed the fake plants on a sponge.
Separating air filter, from pump
from clear plastic tubing
and put to rest
in a brown cardboard box..
She did it without a word.
Copyright © Jennifer Brooks | Year Posted 2006