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
ON MY MOTHER’S PASSING
i wanted to keep my mother physically with me
but it would be like trying to hold the sun
like in life she still shines brighter than any star
is as gentle as the finest breeze
she isn't gone my mother is infinite
hers was a metamorphosis
like the butterfly represents eternal beauty
flies to heights unimaginable to the human mind
butterflies are free and so is she
she was a wife a mother a sister a friend
she was the best of all those roles
she was because she chose to be
but she was then she is now she will always be free
such was her nature
we all knew her as that special person could embrace your heart
we also knew she was all but she was one
you can't own that kind of beauty
and her shine filled you with a euphoric joy
she was she is like the moon
the one belongs to children
belongs to love at its very core
love she spreads across the universe
my mother was is will always be as large as unconditional love
i share this story with you in order to comfort you
her influence is immense
she is now looking after us all
be happy, be confident be at peace
my mother is with us all
and my mother is love
An Added Bonus (My Parents Always Enjoyed My Imagination
For Both Of Them I include This Piece)
DISGUISED IDIOMS & EVERYTHING “JAZZ”
i’d lay down the red and plush
give you the shirt I’m wearing
walk a mile and then one more
hand you the key to my beet red beat
commit all my eggs to your stash
throw in nine yard the whole of it
tell you with no shame “i’m at your beck...just call”
no need to do mine turn around I’ll scratch yours
i’m yours all my parts even a parcel
all of it ‘till the cattle arrive’
Armand ‘aren’t you the clever boy’ Yvonne
Another piece if your in the mood. If not off you go then.
BENEATH THE WHINING
scaled the walls
every time nothing
nothing on the other side
found the doors
never the keys
paid my dues
never got a receipt
every time i fell
got back up
followed the light
always took the noble path
on jagged rocks
autographed the stones in blood -mine
from great heights
lost my hold
landed on my feet
the larger part of my thoughts
sometimes i cried
even yelled my infamous screams
my life it turns out
having accomplished none of my goals
i lived an existence
i alone could appreciate
underneath the layers
of self inflicted scars
i found a me
i loved and respected
i need nothing more
I UNDERSTAND THE DIFFERENCE.
RECOGNIZE ONE FROM THE OTHER.
while the evil mind trods awkwardly
wears swamp covered boots
inner beauty dances in partnership
a benevolent synchronized waltz
in a growing blue green moss
nurture strong thick deep roots
lovingly to the breathing heart
their silent strength
energizes a body of good
spread like lavender scented clover
over a barren land
flow like oxygen
cleanses polluted waterways worldwide
the unsteady unpredictable weather patterns of recent times
a new is born
not a life
not any life
such is the outcome
the collective power
of inner beauty
FOR YOU MY LOVE
a human heart beats over a hundred thousand times a day
the first one hundred thousand every day beat for you
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2018
He's used to war, he fights real hard,
He's a soldier, he's battle scarred.
The enemy is weak, there is nothing to fear,
His compassion is gone, he has no tears.
He was taught well, was taught how to kill,
He's done it so much, it's lost it's thrill.
He no longer feels bad, when the enemy dies,
Tears don't come any more to his tired eyes.
In the beginning it was against his will,
But he soon broke down, and got used to kill.
Never thinking that his foe, was also just a man,
Like him with a family, doing the best he can.
He cannot have feelings, for anyone,
But then, for a moment, he thinks of his son.
He wants to go home, but it's not time yet,
So he goes back to a war, that he wants to forget.
Next day on the beach, on his tour of duty,
Lies a child's body, on the coast of Turkey.
He cannot believe what he sees with his own eyes,
A cute little boy, with no signs of life.
Lying face down, right there on the sand,
He picks him up, with his big strong hands.
And when he saw that there was no hope,
The soldier realized he could not cope.
He shuddered deeply...letting out a sigh,
And that's when...the soldier cried.
Now the whole world mourns that little boy,
Many children elsewhere, receive another toy.
Yes, people stand by, while these refugees die,
Some see the news and say, please...pass the pie.
John Derek Hamilton September 04,2015
Copyright © John Hamilton | Year Posted 2015
"Each experience is locked within my heart and only I hold the key..."
There was a time when Jess was young, that we thought we were going to lose him.
It all started with recurring headaches he would have. These headaches became more frequent and intense over a few months. Next, tremors on one side joined the headaches.
Countless trips to the Doctor and days of having to leave work to go to his side at school to help him through the episodes. I blew a gasket. I demanded a CAT scan. I think that the only reason that the Doctor agreed, was to shut me up. But I knew in my gut, that these were not migraines as diagnosed.
The day of the CAT scan came. I sat in an area that allowed me to see my son and hear the technicians. At first, the techs were very chatty among themselves. Then, stark silence. As if a tomb door had been shut. Then the words that still haunt me were said..."Oh shit" on of the technicians whispered. I closed my eyes and felt my heart cry out in its pain.
I sat in the Doctors office, waiting for him to come and tell me my son was fine. That there was an error in the reading of the scan.
He entered with his nurse, who was carrying a box of tissues and cup of water.
"Your son has an arachnoid cyst. The left temporal lobe of his brain is not there. In its place is a fluid filled sack. The pressure of the filling fluid is causing all the symptoms. He will need to undergo brain surgery."
I sat there....numb. All I recall hearing are the words...Brain surgery.
The day of the surgery came. His younger brother was with me in the waiting room. Too young to understand the gravity of the situation. All he knew was that his brother was very sick.
Now, I want to take you to our sons Hospital room, post surgery.
There he was, lying in the big bed. White as the sheet that covered his small body up to his chest. His head wrapped in bandages. Tubes and wires everywhere.
As our son was waking up, his first words were "Where is my brother?"
Mike flew to the side of his bed and grabbed his hand. "I'm right here!" he said.
Very weakly, Jess was able to say "I love you Mike."
Mike in turn said, "I love you Jess."
My tears that had never flowed through the whole ordeal finally came. Not out of fear, but for the love that our sons had for one another.
For the A Fragment Of Life contest
sponsored by Constance La France
Copyright © Paula Swanson | Year Posted 2011
In each others arm’s
with the warmth I receive from
these words from the depths of
his little heart,
past his precious lips:
“ I’ve been waiting for this Pops”
“What’s that son”,
while still wrapped in his warm grip
was mine query…
“Your golden hug Pops…
your golden hug”
as off to school he did trot
Copyright © James Peranteau | Year Posted 2012
"Am I a man
I am old and frail son;
His smiles and hugs
could not be bought
Copyright © James Peranteau | Year Posted 2012
Sunday night Apr. 8, 2001:
The night I slept in relative peace
foolishly, naively believing and
falsely assuming that all was well…
But then the morning after:
Though not the worst morning after
still the numbing, paralyzing morning after
the morning his voice seemed far away
as if it were an eerie, drug induced dream
the morning he regretted to inform...
(For a precious few weeks
one hibernates, wrapped up safely
in that protective cocoon
of sweet denial and disbelief)
No, the worst morning after came
after all had been said and done
after basking in the glow of sympathy
after the admiration of my iron will
after all returned to daily routines
after I found myself alone again…
Oh no, the worst morning after
was the morning I startled awake
to find that monster standing there
that monster who pointed at me
and told me the bitter, brutal truth
the awful and merciful truth of God
the truth that you are really gone
and are never, ever coming back…
Copyright © Tim Ryerson | Year Posted 2013
Daddy, were you alive when Jesus was born?
No honey, he was born a long time ago, over 2000 years ago.
Where was he born Daddy?
In Bethlehem, a small town in the desert in a manger,
Whats a manger Daddy?
It's a place where they kept animals to feed them.
You see when Jesus was born the Inn was full, so
they had to get Mary to a warm place to give birth to Jesus.
that was the only place they could go.
Daddy who is Jesus' Daddy?
God is his Father honey?
But who is Joseph?
The Chosen Father, who God chose to raise him, Mary's Husband
I don't understand Daddy!
God wanted a son, he could not have a son without Mary and Joseph's
help. God asked them both if they would help him, without even thinking
they said yes. God gave to them a great gift, God gave them Jesus.
At that moment God gave us all a great gift, He gave us the Son of Man.
The Son of Man Daddy?
Yes honey, you see God is not Man, not one you can touch, Jesus
was, he healed people who were sick, He showed people how to love God
and how God loves them. There is one more important thing
I want to tell you honey.
What's that Daddy? Jesus did a coupla more things I think are
important, there are many of course but two I like.
Go on Daddy!
Jesus taught us how to love without conditions, like the way I love you
and you love me and your Mom and Brother. But how to love everybody
like that. The most important thing is, is that he died because we humans
broke God's laws, which means we sinned. He died so God would
Wow Jesus really did love us didn't he Daddy...?
Yes he did baby, and the really good thing is he still does and always will.
Come on it's time for bed!
Not until I say my prayers Daddy!
How bout we Pray together tonight?
I'd like that Daddy!
So would I baby, so would I .
Jump up on my back and I'll give you piggy back ride!
I love you Daddy!
I love you too baby, I love you too.........
My Christmas wish is you all have Conversations like this with your
kids. Trust me they bring tears of joy!
May God Bless you all this Christmas Season as he has Blessed me.
From Mary, Josh, Shay and myself MERRY CHRISTMAS and HAPPY NEW YEAR
Copyright © Richard Pickett | Year Posted 2010
My eldest brother, nine years old,
Thought he could break a horse.
Our mother strictly forbade him.
A mother’s right of course.
Her young son mustered all his wiles,
Hoping he could sway her.
Unwilling to be defeated,
He vowed to disobey her.
He gathered a rope and bridle,
Went to the big corral.
He was there to break a wild colt,
Three brothers there to yell.
Our youngest brother, four years old
Yelled, “I’ll tell Ma on you
Unless you take me up there
And give me a ride too.”
In his eagerness to hush him,
His big brother agreed
And lifted him to the bare back
Of that big, trembling steed.
Our father came in nick of time
To salvage little brother,
Then watched as his son rode that colt.
No one told our mother.
Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2011
Polly got words
He was five and going to start school.
His name was Paul, but everyone called him Polly.
He had only one interest and that was anything with wheels.
His mom knew that other kids his age new their letters and the alphabet.
Polly got bored fast when it came to learning the letters and had no interest in them at all.
He would play for hours with his hot wheels cars, clutched in his hands when he fell asleep.
His mom fretted over this, for after summer, he was to start kindergarten.
She had an idea of how he could learn his letters using cars.
She bought twenty six shiny, new hot wheels cars.
The roof each car she wrote a letter.
It was simple.
She said, this is the A car
When it starts it goes AAaaaaah
And this is the D car
When it starts it goes Dididididi
And this is the R car
When it starts it goes RrrrrRrrrrrr
He learned to recognize the letters and their sounds.
Creative parenting had succeeded wonderfully, and
Polly got words
Sept 21, 2016
Copyright © Tanis Troutman | Year Posted 2016
The story I have to tell- was told long ago to me,
About the creation of the Potawatomi Nation;
In the beginning the Creator made Anishabe,
And the Creator told Anishabe to name all of his creations,
Anishabe set out with a wolf, his companion,
And he went around naming everything;
From the mountains and the canyons,
To the Summer and the Spring;
He became lonely realizing, he alone had no mate,
And as he traveled everywhere searching,
He traveled towards the Great Lakes;
And there he heard a woman singing,
Her song was a thing of beauty,
About the home she was making for them;
Anishabe crossed the lake to meet her, finally,
The daughter of the Firekeeper-And quite a gem
Their’s was the first unity bond, It is where life came from;
Of each other they were inordinately fond;
Their union gave life to four sons,
Each of their sons went a different way,
The First son traveled North, it’s color is White, henceforth;
Given the first gift of the Creator-sweet grass-braided in a bouquet,
He married the daughter of the Spirit of the North;
The second sun traveled East, into the rising sun,
He learned that fire is the essence of life;
He was given the second gift-herbs to speak with the One,
East is the color Yellow, East’s daughter became his wife;
The third son traveled South, known as “The Way of The Woman”,
The way of seeds and all that give life, the color of South is Red;
He was given the gift of cedar-to purify and prepare food for his clan
And to the daughter of the Spirit of the South he was wed.
The last son traveled west, towards the mountain highlands,
He learned that the setting sun represents the circle of life;
Black is the color of West-Sage was the gift for his hands,
Married to the Spirit of the West’s daughter, Black stands for strife.
This is the story of the Creator, That my Grandmother told to me,
How my culture was started, And what our banner means.
~I've been holding on to this a while-Hope you enjoy the beginning of my culture~
~3rd Place in the "Broad Horizons" Contest by Deborah Guzzi~
Copyright © Tirzah Conway | Year Posted 2010
He is caught between one life and another
while my pain lengthens like a shadow of the moon
We are like leaves, played with by the wind
O lengthening dark vision
reaching across our lives
It came, at last, without a sound...
his leave taking came without a word,
but we both heard it in the silence....
His world is in the palm of his hand
and my world is this moment that does not move
O furtuna, sternit fortem
O furtuna, rota tu volubillis
Never was he mine, never was he not mine
The child, no longer, child that bends and sways
My eyes reflect the clouds upon the sky
for he reaches out a hand upon my crown
and I feel the gentle warmth upon my head
A knowing hand of man, not boy, that once I vowed to keep
must leave and know that I will weep
as if I am the child, ....not he,...instead
O fortuna, velut luna
Statu variabillis, semper crescis, aut decrescis;
I force a smile, and watch him fly away
Quod per sortem .... Sternit fortem,
never was he mine, never was he not mine
For Deb's Contest: Bi-Lingual
O Fortuna (O Fortune)
Velut luna (like the moon)
Statu variabilis (you are changeable)
Semper crescis (ever waxing)
Aut decrescis; (and waning;)
Quod per sortem (since Fate)
Sternit fortem, (strikes down the string)
Rota tu volubilis, (you whirling wheel)
Corde pulsum tangite; (pluck the vibrating strings;)
Quod per sortem (since Fate)
Sternit fortem, (strikes down the string)
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2012
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
I always thought that I knew love
How intense that feeling could be
But, you were my gift from above
Just exactly what I'd need
I never thought I'd be a mother
I thought that time had past
It was a shock to believe another
For I was pregnant at last
I was 39 at the time
I felt kind of tired and old
My doctor said that I was fine
And a child is precious like gold
It wasnt always very easy
Being pregnant, working each day
Some times I'd get kind of queasy
But, eventually it went away
Tests, ultrasounds, bloodwork , all were fine
An amnio to see if you were okay
Monthly appointments, filled much of my time
Everything was progressing each day
I worked until the day before
Your grandparents flew out to see
I was very ready, couldn't take no more
Wanted my child for just for me
Finally the day had come,when I was to see my son
I got up early, got everything ready, even checked your room.
Slowly I drove to the hospital ,awaiting for the fun
For this was it what I had waited for, i'd see you before noon.
At the hospital they readied me
A Doctor put a catheter in my back
My Mom and Dad rushed up to see
Their grandchild in a wrap
I told them of my nervousness
How I forgot the words to say
So together we as a family
We were able to pray
I had to wait for a long time
Emergency twins were on the way
They said I was next in line
In the holding room was where I stay
So at 930 they brought me in to the room
They draped a sheet in front of my face
I hoped my head wouldn't zoom
I wanted to start this race
At 9:54 you came into my life
Your Dad ran to the end to see
The child that was bore by his wife
We became a family of three
My eyes filled with tears and I felt joy
It was all so new, I never had felt it before
Here's your child, perfect, handsome, and its a boy
For on that day my love for you grew even more
The bond between a mother and son
Is a story that can't be told
To look into your little eyes, I was overcome
My memories of that first time will never get old
So on this day when you had came
Was the best day I could have ever thought
Never mind fortune and fame
To have a child is a lesson in life that can never ever be taught.
Copyright © Jennifer Marie Oliver | Year Posted 2013
He loved you too, you know
Loved you like his very own
In away you were
You came into his life as my friend
Through the years you grew to be my brother in arms
Along the way you became the son he never had
He loved you as a friend
He loved you even more as a son
A son he never had
When things began to spiral out of control
You stayed when so many others ran away
You helped when I couldn’t
You meant a great deal to him
You never looked at him differently
Nor did you treat him differently
You stood by his side
When he fell, you stood by his side and mine
You were willing to help me fight his battle for him
You were there from the beginning
You were there until the bitter end
Always remember my friend, my brother
He loved you more than you’ll ever know
Dedicated to close Family friend. He loved my Daddy just as much as I did/do.
Copyright © Sabrina Niday Hansel | Year Posted 2013
You do not stand alone in your Battle
Your battle is our Battle
We may not be there in body
But we are there with you in Spirit
We are there in every beat of your Heart
In every whisper of the wind
In every thought and every touch
Every breath and every sound
We are there with you
You are wrapped in an Endless chain of Love
In every link we each send you a part of us
We send you some of our Strength
Some of our will to Fight
Some of our Courage
The most important of them all
We send you all of our Love
If you feel you need more
Just give that Endless chain a little tug
And we'll be there
Tug til you need us no more
Then we'll know you've gone Home
5/09/2014 Dedicated to my Aunt Nini, Wilma Thomas Gamble for Mother's Day. Sadly she lost her Battle w/ Stage 4 Pancreatic Cancer on 5/30/2014.
Copyright © Sabrina Niday Hansel | Year Posted 2014
My son Scottie and me
Are like two peas in a pod
The word “clone” certainly comes to mind
His humour is the same
His carefree look at life matches mine
There is no mistaking Scottie boy is my son
He's also inherited my creative genes
Following in his Daddy's footsteps
A techie version of his old man
Did I mention I'm proud of my Scottie
Does a bear poop in the woods
Of course I'm proud as a peacock
I love this boy!
He's now in his late forties
But he will always be my boy!
© Jack Ellison 2014
Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2014
It wasn't because he brought her flowers....
It wasn't because he wined and dined her....
She loved him because he spent hours on the computer
trying to track down the 1970 Brooks Robinson baseball card
for their oldest son's birthday
She loved him because he played with their kids,
even after a hard day at work...
baseball games in the big front yard,
cheering them on...
not getting angry when the youngest son
knocked a homer...
...straight through the living room window
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2015
He cries in grief at the funeral, he's just lost his best friend.
He passed away so quickly, but had been loyal to the end.
Observers remarked, he's not a real man, look how he cries.
But, what do you expect a man to do, when a loved one dies.
She's beautiful to the extreme, in countenance and form,
A real temptress, in every way, a star was born.
She makes an overture to him with a knowing smile,
He turns her down, says he's been happily married for a while.
She says listen here honey, a real man can't say no to me!
He says a real man understands the meaning of true loyalty.
He works hard every day, does his best to support his family,
After work some say hey, let's go drinking, have a real party!
He says no thanks, I should really be going back home,
I don't like to leave my wife and kids there all alone.
They said you're joking right, a real man does what he wants to.
He says that's not really the loving thing to do.
His neighbor says come on over, watch the game, in my man cave,
He says sorry, I promised the kids we would go out and play.
Neighbor retorts you're so boring, a real man has all the toys,
He says no, a real man grows up, leaves behind the traits of a boy.
On the highway going home, by mistake he cuts someone off,
The other driver is furious, yelling insults, and horrible stuff.
It continues for miles till they're both stuck at a red light,
The other driver get's out and tries to provoke him to fight,
Says get out of the car, chicken, a real man knows how to fight back
His mild manner turns away rage, self-control is his counter attack.
If your father never taught you, what a real man should know,
It gets so obvious as the years pass, it really starts to show.
All is not lost, just grow up, and assume your responsibility,
Then you will understand what it means to be truly happy.
John Derek Hamilton November 1,2015
Copyright © John Hamilton | Year Posted 2015
THERE IS NO GREATER LOVE THAN THIS
"For God did not send His Son
into the world to condemn the world,
but that the world through Him might be saved...-John 3:17 "
"Crucify Him! Crucify Him! CRUCIFY HIM!, the sea of mob uproars
yet, my Savior Jesus accused and scorned stood in silence...
Trial done. His sentence announced. The Romans flogged him
with a flagellum, forty lashes spate on Jesus' arms, shoulders
and legs, leaving His body in scarlet rugged ribbons...
Battered and Bruised, they threw a robe on His shoulders,
Placed a reed to His shaking hands and onto his head,
a crown of twisted thorns."Hail, King of the Jews, Hail!",
mocked and joked by the kneeling Soldiers to my Savior.
After that cruel charade with Sadistic aura, the soldiers spatted Him,
tearing His robe. On the dry... sun-kissed road of Via Dolorosa,
a more than hundred pounds of cross was tied onto His shoulders.
And a fence of insulting people, spitting and laughing, congest on the way.
Despite that, My Savior tried to walk erect but due to exhaustion
and copious blood loss, He stumbled and fell for three times.
The rough wood gouge to His already lacerated skin,
bathe in blood and sweats so cold, my Savior moves on...
Atop Golgotha... on the rugged wooden cross lies His long white body
as four brawny Soldiers came closer with ropes, hammer and nails
went to their posts. One drives a wrought iron-nail to His Hands
Rending His muscles... veins... nerves and bones..
My Jesus utters a cries same as the slaughtered lamb and Mary,
His mother,folded her face to her arms, she groaned as like
a lamenting dove. The friction of iron striking iron echoes through.
Hammer, hammer, Hammer! The Soldier strokes unto His feet.
With His Mother is His favored apostle: John, who mirrors horror and grief.
Hands and feet now nailed, they dragged the cross to be dropped
in the grounds hole, into His patibulum: “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews”,
Knots of relentless throbbing pain shoots left and right over my Savior
and all around the thrilled crowd below cheered in Sadistic chorus:
"if You are God. We are not afraid of You and we spit at You"
but oh! above all these, my suspended Savior on the tree said:
“Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.”
Tomb silence reign and time passes by in a distressed deafening rhythm
as tunnel train of tingles jolts and attacks my Savior's cyanotic body--
crippling chill of death rattles and crumbles my Savior's life
All the Maries and the other women weep unto their scarfs
as they heard their Dying Master's one last cry:
"It is finished...Father, into Your hands I commit My spirit"
at 3 o'clock noon that day, the sky marched in salvo of thunderbolts...
"and this is the condemnation,
that the light has come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light,
because their deeds were evil... - John 3:19"
2:48 pm, March 29, 2014
Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo | Year Posted 2015
We walk the rocky shore
and you lean heavily on me,
Mother, bruising my balky arm --
muttering "Ay, Hijo!";
a few steps and, breathless,
we are both exhausted.
Your once-brown eyes, gone gray,
are like concentric rings
rippling from a random stone
thrown into this polluted pond
in winter: eyes as flat
as the latex paint that
coats a cheerless rented room.
Cataracts cloud your lenses;
they have a ruptured look --
purple, jellied -- like the eyes
of a dead fish which I poke,
It is puffed and rotten.
Your eyes are puffed, too, red-rimmed,
moist with tears that brim over
though you try to blink them back.
That you love me and I you,
and that we wish to extend
our time together, is clear --
as clear as the fetid water
in the pond, as clear as my conscience
when I drop you at the Home,
cleverly inventing an important
meeting, to which I hastily fly.
Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore | Year Posted 2011
Waiting silently by the phone was all he had.
Grasping the bottle he drank greedily.
The waiting was all he had at the moment.
He roared,"arrrrrgh!"And the sound comforted him.
He dialed his son to wish him Happy Holiday.
The son had no father but he waited too.
Like a cast away he scanned the bottle searching for a note.
The two went back to the waiting and it helped.
It was something to do to kill time and it was honest.
The sea was deep and danger waited there too.
So all three gathered together in silence.
The father sent memories on the ferry to the son.
"Arrrrrgh," helped and it comforted the man.
He was in the navy so he loved the sea and the sea returned it.
The father watched and scanned the waves with hope.
And the gulls screaming words that only gulls understand.
What will become of me after the message is delivered?
Will I ever cross and grasping the bottle.
I loved you and The Sea.
Copyright © Patrick Cornwall | Year Posted 2011
It was a cold and rainy night.
The stars were shining bright.
It seemed as if the world was at a pause and not a person was in sight.
I sat quietly in my car,
the sound of music I heard blasting from a far.
I opened my door,
stepped out slowly and looked around.
Now suddenly the music stopped,
not a word is heard, not even a sound.
I turned my head, looked over my shoulder,
I saw a woman running.
She was wearing a white gown.
I couldn't help but wonder why this woman running
flaunted such a frown.
I followed her footsteps,
I listened for the sound.
Running through the darkness,
one question came to mind,
Who would leave this woman?
Who would be so heartless?
How can someone leave her when she is so obviously distraught?
Abruptly a sound was heard.
I came to a stop.
I listened closely.
It was a gunshot.
Now fearful I stood.
I began to run as fast as I could.
I ran so fast, I could hear my heart beating.
I came upon my car and noticed a woman bleeding.
She was gasping for air.
Someone had shot her and left her to die there.
It was as if they didn't even care.
She reached for my hand,
whispered softly to me
"never trust a man"
At that moment her hand dropped.
I knew her heart had stopped.
I looked at her white gown now dripping red.
I I cried to myself and pondered what she had said.
This could be me.
I could be lying here dead.
I will remember her words always.
They will haunt me for the rest of my days.
This moment I will never forget.
No man should ever be such a threat.
This was the day my life would change.
From this day on I would never be the same.
The lesson I learned here,
never have such fear.
Fear that will keep me from being free.
I learned that I can be happy just being me.
Copyright © Deeana Valencia | Year Posted 2012
Story of a boy.....
I was to go to bed at 8 that night
When there was firing at the door,
Heard mom gasp,"God save my son."
I had no idea of what was in store.
We ran to the basement and shut it tight,
Mom pointed to the passage where dad hauls in wood
Sternly commanded me to go
While still as stone there she stood.
The sinners banged the door hard,
Through the passage there was just room for me to fit
So I sat down and shook my head,
There was no way that on my mother I'd quit.
She looked at me in the eye and gave me a kiss
And said,"Darling please listen to me,
I love you so very much
As fast as you can, do get to daddy."
'I'll get Dad' I thought and started to crawl,
I had to hurry,the door had almost gave way too
Noticed a sharp thing in the way and stopped,
But mom, in haste pushed me through.
I yelped in pain as iron cut my arm,
But what hurt me more was the door falling with a 'thud'.
Scars on my soul left me nightmares for years to come
Mom's cries and final scream echoing as I ran in the mud.
Fifteen years later, in the same but better town,
I show my arm to my wife and say
"If not for these scars I was left with
I would be with mom today."
Copyright © sadaf syed | Year Posted 2013
My son and his family drove down from the big city,
out to the countryside with open fields and steams.
They brought their standard golden poodle along,
a curly-haired fellow, name of Timmy.
Timmy had never seen a cat;
not even a mole or a furry rat.
Visiting country kin, he was checking things out.
Everything went fine that very first day.
Cats went about paying him no mind.
He walked about just passing time.
On that second day there was a big mistake.
Being a city dog with more worldy ways,
to add pleasure to his hum-drum days,
he thought it time to befriend these country kin.
The cats had never seen a dog this small,
only those on stilts, big, long and tall,
like Pyrenees, big wide mouths and teeth to match.
With barking big dogs on the scene,
up a tree they squirreled, never to be seen.
But this golden-haired fellow, with city clout--
they’d give him benefit of instinctive doubt.
Mama cat was even so bold
to sniff this city slicker right on the nose.
Sizing him up all the while, a friendly rat, she surmised,
a might bigger than some she had seen,
playing cat and mouse, yet acting so coy;
that is, until that overgrown golden-haired rat
walked up to Mama’s black baby boy.
Mama’s two other sons, another black and a blue,
began to gather nearer this city dweller, too.
Timmy politely extended his nose.
black son cat extended his razor-sharp claws,
with a bristled tail and fierce hissing jaws.
Timmy let out with a painful yelp,
as Mama cat called all boys in for help.
Cats surrounded and gave chase to the dog,
life-fearing circles around the cedar tree he’d log;
four hissing cats hot on his tail,
poor Timmy yelping in a desperate wail.
The master of Timmy gave rescue,
but Mama cat and her three grown sons,
strutting in pride, putting a dog on the run.
Written by: Carolyn Henderson
For Constance LaFrance's Cat Poem Contest
Won 9th Place
Copyright © Carolyn Henderson | Year Posted 2010
Although you never knew it,my LOVE was always there;there were many who did tell you,I
was a son who didn't care.But lifes a funny journey,some parts are good and bad;your
passing without warning,has truly left me sad.I'll pray to God to give you,all the LOVE you
hadn't here,lets hope we meet in HEAVEN......so I'll see you MOTHER Dear. ~ Princefreakasso
Your broken hearted son PRINCE!
Mother decided to die without saying goodbye,didn't give me the opportunity;to shed a single
tear or cry.
My mother passed away a short while back and I was too late for her funeral.Just got to put
some flowers and light some candles at her grave.Let's hope the good Lord blesses and
keeps her until we meet again.
Copyright © Prince Freakasso | Year Posted 2010
That summer your dad died
and we brought your mom
to stay a few weeks
‘til she moved to the nursing home
we drove east to Saskatchewan
the huddles of family
I’d never met
softly recounting your father’s fading
while Bessie washed dishes without a word
and looked for something
her fiftieth gift child
who’d strategically shirked
could flick the switch of recognition
her pleading eyes a conversation
translated in flesh
Back at home with a change of plan
to live together
as long as we could
with the front door swinging
the kettle screaming
dry on the stove
and Bessie shuffling the winding road
in search of church or bingo
'Til leaning down to hug “goodnight”
your eyes her open sky
where every memory softly whispered
Bessie back into the light
Copyright © Soulfire | Year Posted 2011
Hostile Times II
By Nate Spears
Busted love is my Crystal Ball's fortune
My heart hurts in a torturing way
Nothing ever works in my favor
I lower my head and pray
Confessing to God
All I have to give
A 16 year old rebellious daughter
A 13 year old son that’s dead
My father is in prison; so is the one of my two kids
Is this really a way of living?
I didn’t have a choice from the days beginning
Would have a given me a chance
Walls of barriers bearing on us
On this earth we stand
Refusing to let go of this curse
If no bill is signed by Congress
My unemployment runs out next Thursday
Now I contemplate what’s next?
Sex dollars or Creflo's Dollars?
Be an honest woman; or
Be a fool that’s starving?
When pushed to the limit
All governors are discarded.
Hostile Times rains upon us
Other nations joins the honors
The Elite makes me vomit
There’s plenty of resources among us
God have mercy and let it trickle down on us
Rather than become degrading
In this pew
I choose prayer
Becoming Sunday Mornings best
Washing away my pains that become abreast; with my chest
Bringing in a new day,
For a better way
In these hostile times we live in.
Copyright © Nate Spears | Year Posted 2013
Like Father Like Son
Clarence X was a poet
A poet that was trained by William Shakespeare and inspired him to ignore his troublesome of selling drugs , and become a poet of positive so, he gets train and he enjoys it and learns the deep expression meanings.When William Shakespeare left the world, Clarence X was lost and all alone but he used his mind and William's advice and wisdom to continue on his journey as a poet and never gave up when he died. Clarence X words of poetry began to improve and his heart lies in Shakespeare's teaching and his magnificent work. The days has past and Clarence X meets a girl name Isabella and falls in love later on and has a baby name Clarence X Jr therefore, The senior would teach the son to not follow the negative path of the burden streets but instead use your common mentality head by focusing on the words of poetry. The senior dies in his sleep when the junior turns 26 and passes his poetry to his only son.
The senior first became a rookie train by Shakespeare in poetry
The senior became a new born legend poet when William died
The senior fell in love and had a son
The senior died a legend when he train and passes his legacy to his talented son
The son is his gift and blessings to the world of creativity
The Junior of poet is his life of the force
Copyright © Cmack Estevez | Year Posted 2016
Water showers on our heads
As we take pictures of ourselves
To remember the moment
When our hands are again united
When was the time
When we went out like this?
Wore smile on our cheeks
Then had our public kiss?
Gratefully given the time
To forget the world in just a day
Spend time as if it’s all ours
No one could take it away
Copyright © Lei Strauss | Year Posted 2016