Too hard for me to say goodbye
For all apparent reasons why
Even though we all know it must be
Each heart will someday stop the beat
When the rhythm of life, and silence, finally meet
Yet I always seem so surprised
To find that death is part of life
Knowing that regret, will now haunt my every rhyme
The specter called "if only", will inhabit every line.
Wish I could arbitrate a deal to have gained a little time
Just one more talk with Sissy, to ease my guilty mind.
And the sun now sets on my regrets
I gamble on time and lose each bet
Thinking I'll move on and yet,
here I set . . .
Wishing for one more time
One more pun
One more smile
That will never come
If I could just recall the things you said that mattered to you most.
Memories un memorized
That now I'll never know
Years of conversation when I didn't pay attention
Times I should have said I love you
And somehow failed to mention
Then when you tried to tell me you felt your time was drawing near
Your selfish little brother pretended not to hear.
Even when you did your best, and tried to let me know
You'd made your peace and you were ready, and that for you . . .
It was simply time to go
Copyright © Kelly Crenshaw | Year Posted 2015
MY UKHT AL-KUBRA
I have one sister in my home
Sweet, loving, with open arms and heart
With dark brown eyes
And an inviting laugh
And a passion
I have a sister at Soup
Sweet, loving, with open arms and heart
Both my sisters are so different
Yet one thing is the same:
I love them both
With all of my heart.
My sister at home has her Arabic name.
My sister at Soup stil hasn't.
To me she is an inspiration.
So, my dear inspirational sister,
Below your name in my language:
ILHAME - INSPIRATION
The picture is Ilhame in Arabic calligraphy
Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2016
Don't leave me hanging sis!
I came out of nowhere with an agenda on the mind
Joining the soup to be near my favorite love
a game I did not plan to play
Until he called upon the first round.
giving it my best shot
Then came round three and more.
The poets here I started to explore
Not taking my poetry seriously
The writing just happens naturally
now I see why she visits everyone at the soup.
My sister who puts on a show with words
Is adored by her very own group
the Destroyer was my pet name
She gave me when I was young
So envious of her, I broke the head of her only dolls.
using her poetry was the way she tortured me
Inside me, she bestowed a poet of mischief
Now I like to tease everyone mind with words
I hate this poem..... Lol..don't read it... It was a joking way back then
(((for contest**Leave me hanging)))
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2010
My sister left her smile
at my house...
I found it and put it on...
Her smile laden with many memories
full of warmth joy through embattled
Her courage outright distinguished...
Like a rested storm...finally free...
...As I stood in the mirror...
Her smile smiled back at me...
for this is what it said...
I wear this smile with pride...
I wear this smile with pride...
For this smile leads me into a new day...
This smile ignores me not...
It reminds me - of the fun I
have at play...
It has seen me through many battles...
...and reminds me of the ones I've won...
But it helps to remember the
beautiful person I have today become...
From a child once abandoned...
to bare a daughter of my own...
My smile understands the feelings...
and with spirit I have grown...
My life is full and rich...and my love
for the world I have declared...
With my all...dressed in my smile
I stand before you...
...From within my smile I do share...
And today I ask that you return me
to my owner...
...and here it is my sister...
For my beautiful sister Jay...
Copyright © Eileen R. Kelly | Year Posted 2008
She should have been Hera, goddess queen of heaven, the sister-wife of
Zeus, king of the gods; she would have caught him one Friday night tipping
Out while she sleeps to visit one of his plumy wives and over 100 relations.
She would have said, “Sit down Zeus; let me inform you about the laws of
Property settlement and child support in heaven with a concrete poem.”
She would have straightened up Aphrodite, goddess of love and lust.
Especially when Aphrodite was caught red-handed making love to
Her son, Ares, the God of war, she probably would have said, “Now look
Here woman, quit messing with my son and creating all this rumblings in
Heaven with the gods.” I could see some Lanturne poems floating
She would have acted as the sister of Demeter, goddess of fertility,
Agriculture, and harvest, a sister of Zeus. Because she would have
Blessed women with children who need them, and also farmers
With great harvest and crops to feed their families and sustain the
People across the land, by waving a haiku poem in her healing hands
She would have screamed as the sister of Hermes, the crooked cattle-rustling
God; son of Zeus and Maia, who stole his brother, Apollo’s cows, then
Lied, and swore before Zeus, their father, “That even if I knew who stole
Apollo’s cattle, I would not even accept a reward for finding the thief.”
She would have gave her crooked brother, and son of Zeus, a flying senryu
She would have been with Athena, the virgin goddess of wisdom, reason, and
Heroic endeavors; the daughter of Zeus, and Titan goddess of wise counsel
Métis, especially when Athena appeared onto Swift-footed demigod,
Achilles, and told him, “Sheathe your sword and defeat Agamemnon, the
Greek king with words of wisdom.” I could see some wise epigram poems
She was probably counseled by Apollo, her brother, god of music, healing, and
Poetry; the son of Zeus and the Titan goddess Leto. Because she has cared
For the sick in hospital emergency rooms, and has also stimulated us for years
With her poetic muse. She has counseled many along the way and has calmed
Many storms with loving charm. “Hail my sister in Christ—Karen O’Leary!”
Happy birthday angel and wishing you many more for years to come!
Copyright © Joseph Spence Sr | Year Posted 2010
An angel in white floated down from the heavens
Onto a small farm in the northern land of Salford
Illumination and imagination combined
She was divine and with inspiration, sublime
Inquisitive eyes shone out from this beautiful creature
Her airs and twinkle surely from above were derived
She questioned the existence of the god, her creator
What child would not ponder the universe and nature?
She wanted to save the world
A one angel salvation army with a smile
A romantic with desires of angelic love
She was humble, her knowledge was from above
She knew the tongues of many men
Languages’ known, languages’ today unspoken
Her worldly desires to preach, affection to mankind
She became a Semple lady, united in humanity no matter how blind
Around the world
Singing praises of the lord
Malaria left her alone with child assured
A Star was yet to rise
Head strong and a heart of gold
Her children grew up with god’s undying love
She was not one to take a back seat
Her gift was her message; she delivered from a heavenly stage
In the city of Angels, a miracle born
The temple of Angels
The fiery flaming fascinating preacher of immaculate beauty
Would rise to god’s glory, a message to be celebrated and adored
On the shores of a beach long ago
The white angel of the lord disappeared from the shore
The devils monsters accused of devouring her whole
Her followers waiting patiently for a resurrection to show
The ultimate Kiss was to awake her
From south where the water is brown with evil sin
She wandered back to her own echoes
Now to be spectacular, heavens evangelical angel
A sensuous sermonizer, a preacher of love
She fed the poor during depressing times
Her hand would cure the sick and wayward
She brought the values of the ancients, to modern times
Angels often do not sleep
So in the year of 1944 she was recalled above
Her work her on earth a splendid score
Now in heavens, she leads the choir of angels
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2014
There lives a girl named Aoibha
A clever, gifted writer
She has a sister, Lilly
A little ankle-biter
They're always close together
They're seldom far apart
They share all that they're given
Some say, they share a heart
While Lilly Rose, she picks her nose
Miss Aoibha's writing stories
With fish-hooks dangling, from their toes
They're catching Johnny Dories
So if you're feeling 'iffy'
And not so full of 'cheer'
You'll feel a whole lot better
When you have your sister near
An early little riser
Lilly Lashes spins her stories
Her listening sister Aoibha
Hears her early morning glories
A love so pure and gentle
And a beauteous curious mind
With wondrous thoughts of exes and noughts
Let’s leave the world behind
Fly with me to the Moon, sis
Or a far off distant star
There’s no-one knows us better
Than the ‘soulful wills’ we are
So if you’re feeling ‘iffy’
And not so full of ‘cheer’
You’ll feel a whole lot better
‘Cos we’re sisters, far and near
Copyright © peter walsh | Year Posted 2016
Such an Amazing girl god put into my life.
He knew i needed you at that exact time
Funny when we met I thought you were to good for me
But when you approached me the sweetest girl I did meet.
From that day on we have never truly been apart cause I
carry you around everywhere in my heart. You have been the
rock when I needed a friend around, you have been the light
when the darkness consumed me and took away my sunshine
Even when were miles apart the phone connects us and keeps
our strongest bond. 17 years feels like such a short time but
I feel I have always had you in my life. Soul Sisters we were
meant to be.. You my beloved friend are such a fresh breeze
Even after a year apart it was like yesterday that we did part
so through the many miles and through the long hard road
I know this friendship will always survive. Your a burst of joy
to me each day I thank the Lord for the sweet blessing he gave!
Copyright © Christina McCullouch | Year Posted 2013
my hidden diamond
love's sweet jewel
Beauty so pure
your character delights
my devotion forever
Heartbeat on screen
My unbelief ceased
first squeezed my finger
Copyright © Christina Holmes | Year Posted 2013
?"Sisters touch your heart in ways no other could.
Sisters share... their hopes, their fears, their love, everything they have.
Real friendship springs from their special bonds."
(This quote led my heart to write my own, see below)
<3 I love you my sister.... A chance meeting, a sister bond not born of the same parents, but the heart has brought us together as sisters, forever, bonded by a deeper love, my soul sister from God himself. (Shyne930, 2012)
Copyright © Anna Borsick | Year Posted 2012
Do you remember
When the moon
Danced with sun
On an early spring morning
When we use to rise
Like eagles in the sky
When we skipped
Like an otter in the sea
Multiplied in the fields
As we walked
Hand in hand to school
Little sister do you remember
Copyright © Brian Kilpatrick | Year Posted 2011
Her Comments, entranced me: Her POEMS even more so
Her POETRY enhanced me: She watered me, so I could grow
A Bow, an Honorary Golden Pen, My Respect I give to thee
To my Sister Sharon, Love I send, FOREVER throughout Eternity
We share a kindred Spirit, our Emotions, Heartbeat, Love and Fears
L’il Sister Writes; I hear it, I feel her words of joy, love, sorrow, tears
“Is Your inkwell filled with my thoughts?” “Yes, and YOUR “Inspiration”
I will not attempt to change Your thoughts: “become a POETRY “Inspiration””
Your lyrics, on the roads of my mind, Your Spirit beating in a Loving Brother’s Heart
I know not where to begin the path of my mind, “Your Love for “Lenore, Always a start”
With quivering hand I grasp my Quill, dip it in the inkwell, Lost in the words LOVE Writes
To Honor YOU a Brother’s; “Thrill”. HGarvey Daniel Esquire, (HG) ; Harry wrote these Writes
So sad to see YOUR Pen Laid down my Most BELOVED ; Sharon Weimer ( “ L’il SIS “ )
I Thank-YOU for the POETRY and the times we have (SHAR)ED, I give too YOU a Loving
( " K I S S " )
A Sonnet Tribute to : SHARON WEIMER, A former POETESS on this site (We Miss YOU)
Copyright © HGarvey Daniel Esquire | Year Posted 2012
The Years To Long From Before
How the years go by from the time your just learning to walk till the time you walk out of your parents house.There are time when you ask "Where did all the time go?"
Life is a dangerous games filled with birth life and death.If I could rewrite thing I think i would danger everything with only one note.Life isn't fair life is to short life is twist and turns and around again, one day we all will be faced with your death beds our coffin and then the dirt over us.I wish i could fall until I fall there no pain in falling there no worry in following there is no death in falling,can you ever relive falling until you fall to hard that you hit the ground that you fall broken? How do I steal your emotions so you can't ever worry again? Should I try harder to make you realize that the trust you put into me won't cause you grief won't cause you to leave me in a black box? There is this ever lasting light this perfect time to tell you that time before you grow up trust in me.Dear child dear sweet one what have I lost you to? you was young once bright you made my day full of joy and full of worry I can't believe that now I can't do but worry but then the way you stride yourself make proud.How many years gone by from your first words now look your to old for you to ask me to help.
This i dedicated to my mom,my younger brother and sister who even to day have stop needing the big sister and to my mom who know this feeling all to much,I love you guys so much
Copyright © Marcedies Rhodes | Year Posted 2012
My dearest little sister, who I adore..
God blessed me with you, forevermore.
Side by side, we will always be..
Through tears and heartache, I will never leave..
Through life's trials we will work them out together..
What I am trying to say is I will love you forever...
Copyright © Twelve Noon | Year Posted 2008
Don't want to leave
want to pick you up
in my arms
kiss you and tell
you - I have
stored away and
this love I have for
Don't want to feel
Like the only way
heart is when it's
Making it seem as if
I hate you
When I just don't
want you to hate me.
I even dislike
I have endured-
Because I hoped,
and took the shots.
Realizing that my
defense was strong
my retaliation could
kick you into
I Love you
too much, to let
you continue hurting
yourself, to hurt
You won't see me
As I aggravate
your condition on
as I remind you of
well held onto
The truth is I want
hold you and tell
I want to clear your
let you see that
the love is here
It cannot be
I cannot complete
the task;until you
Copyright © Vicki Acquah | Year Posted 2014
I go to a place of memories
That haunt my vivid dreams
On a winding path I walk,
The path is always there ;
Old oaks bend their branches,
Of dripping leaves and moss ;
The grass is emerald green,
And many birds chirp unseen,
Chipmunks scurry here and there,
Running up and down the trees.
And all around are flowers bright
They flutter in the breeze.
She waits beyond this bend;
Oh she was my sister love.
How we liked to play and play,
Until that sad, dark day,
She went to be an angel above.
I think it was God's will.
A rose I place upon her grave,
And let me write the pain.
The last time I saw my sister love,
She lay in repose so sweetly;
Her lips were rosy in death stillness.
Arms folded as if in prayer,
I kissed her cold dead cheek,
And I will remember her ;
Sleeping in her eternal ever rest,
Her dress of the softest pink.
The years have slipped past me,
I am no longer a little girl ;
But a woman of many years,
Yet when I walk this path,
I go back to that sad day.
The day I watched sister love,
Lowered into the earth below;
Mother Earth opened wide,
And then she was a memory.
A memory that will haunt me,
In all my days that remain ;
This place of deep sorrow,
A winding path beneath the trees,
A name upon cold stone ;
In poems inspired I write the pain,
Of a my beloved sister love.
Inspired by the poem, Pictures Of Memory
Written by Alice Cary, 1820 - 1870
Among the beautiful pictures
That hang of Memory's wall
Is one of a dim old forest,
That seemeth best of all ;
Not for its gnarled oaks olden,
Dark with mistletoe ;
Not for the violets golden
That sprinkle the vale below ;
Not for the milk-white lilies
That lean from the fragrant ledge,
Coquetting all day with the sunbeams,
And stealing their golden edge ;
Not for the vines on the upland,
Where the bright red berries rest,
Nor the pinks, nor the pale sweet cowslip,
It seemeth to me the best.
I once had a little brother,
With eyes that were dark and deep ;
In the lap of that old dim forest
He lieth in peace asleep :
Light as the down of the thistle,
Free as the winds that blow,
We roved there the beautiful summers,
The summers of long ago ;
But his feet on the hills grew weary,
And, one of the autumn eves,
I made for my little brother
A bed of the yellow leaves.
Sweetly his pale arms folded
My neck in a meek embrace,
As the light of immortal beauty
Silently covered his face ;
And when the arrows of sunset
Lodged in the tree-tops bright,
He fell, in his saint-like beauty,
Asleep by the gates of light.
Therefore, of all the pictures
That hang on Memory's wall,
The one of the dim old forest
Seemeth the best of all.
August 15, 2015
For the contest, No More Masks, sponsor, Catie Lindsay
Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2015
Missing you is like feelings of thee morning dew. The very first time I glanced at you, something like a widow a woman that husband has died. Wishing we had just a little more time. Wishful thinking believing everything you ever said was true shows how bad I want to be with you. Reminiscing over here dwelling on the past, indicating a desire of admiration I grasp. Adoration and appreciation is what I feel for you, longing suffering missing and enduring the lost just to speak to you. From morning till midnight, sunset to sunrise moving into the afternoon time I’m missing you. Arousing emotional response in motion missing you is my religion. My system of belief, therefor you’re an apostle sent by Christ making me a flock of one in your missionary. Leaving me with anxiety and tension I stay missing. Impatient for your fulfillment, missing you is an addiction and psychological dependence. Needing to see you even for a minute, in a recession I remain unchanged retain missing you.
Copyright © twanna Irisha | Year Posted 2012
There were seven Indian Government schools. All built alike. The
one I'm writing about is Spring Creek. He Dog, Soldier Creek and White River,
Grass Mountain, Two Kettle, and Black Pipe were the other schools. The
Headquarters for these schools was at Rosebud, South Dakota.
On some summer evenings we were able to talk our mothers into
hiking to the lookout tower. We followed the ankle deep sandy trail road to the
cliff north of the school., A canyon lay at the foot of the tower but we climbed the
bluff. I don't know why we didn't explore the canyon unless it seemed dark and
sinister. The footing was better once we reached the summit. The closer we got
to the tower the taller it grew and standing at the foot of the steps looking up was
easier than getting to the top and looking down. My mother didn't usually make it
to the top because she didn't like heights. But she didn't mind being left behind
this time. We never could get into the building at the top because it was locked,
but we could climb the steps to the very last one. Even my little sister managed
to elude mom and followed us to the top.
From the bluff we could look down on the garden. My aunt grew a
huge garden and canned the produce for the hot meals served the school
children. We kids didn't work in the garden very often, but we looked for the arrow
heads and fossils. Which, I suspect the adults probably considered the best
place for us.
At the end of the road, living in shack, was Old Lady Grease. I have a
vague recollection of seeing her. Tiny, frail, wrinkled and gray headed is all I can
In spring and fall we were in school in Kansas.
It's Christmas now. Cold and usually snowy. We were in a winter
I'm standing at the fire escape window. The ghostly pale full moon is
illuminating the naked arms of the trees as they shiver in the wind, swaying to
and fro as if dancers in a ballet. I listen to the winter sounds. The frigid air
enhances their sharpness. The ax's thud echoes up the canyon as one of the
Indians across the river chops another supply of wood. One of his peers beats
on the drum. It is one-thirty a. m. but the thin walls of the tents do not keep the
cold out. Day or night this chore must be attended to for survival.
Copyright © Marycile Beer | Year Posted 2007
Ah the cake before the icing!!!!!!
Aimee Semple McPherson (October 9, 1890 – September 27, 1944), also known as Sister Aimee, was a Canadian born in Salford, Ontario. She was a Los Angeles–based evangelist and media celebrity in the 1920s and 1930s.She founded the Foursquare Church. McPherson has been noted as a pioneer in the use of modern media, especially radio, and was the second woman to be granted a broadcast license. She used radio to draw on the growing appeal of popular entertainment in North America and incorporated other forms into her weekly sermons at Angelus Temple.
In her time she was the most publicized Christian evangelist, surpassing Billy Sunday and her other predecessors. She conducted public faith-healing demonstrations before large crowds, allegedly healing tens of thousands of people. News coverage sensationalized misfortunes with family and church members; particularly inflaming accusations she had fabricated her reported kidnapping, turning it into a national spectacle. McPherson's preaching style, extensive charity work and ecumenical contributions were a major influence in revitalization of American Evangelical Christianity in the 20th century.
Verse 1 Salford is the town in which she was born
Verse 2 As a teenager she would question visiting preachers about the existence of God
Verse 3 As a child she would often play “salvation army”
Verse 4 She was known to understand men speaking in tongues even they did not know
She married a man Semple, thus the play on words, simple, Semple, they traveled the world preaching, where he does of malaria in Hong Kong
Verse 5 Her husband Semple left her with child, whom she named “Star”
Verse 6 She remarried and tried to be a good wife, however her calling was to preach, during this time she was known to be obsessive about cleaning, however her children say that she was also a very loving mother, as a housewife as well as when she went back to preaching.
Verse 7 In Los Angles she formed the the “Temple of Angelus”
Verse 8 Is about her disappearance from Venice Beach in California, and re emerging in a town in Mexico
Verse 9 The ultimate Kiss was a famous song by a Mexican group in the 1960’s from the town where she re-appeared “ Aqua Prietas” Brown Water in English. Echos, refers to Echo Park a place in Los Angles where she formed her church.
Verse 10 sensuous sermonizer is a quote by Cole Porter describing Aimee. She was known for feeding the poor during the depression, something the government was failing to do, as well s healing the sick, and although not always successful, there are some famous accounts of her success. She was known for using theater, music and radio to bring the world of god to the people, thus bring ancient ways to modern times, and many an Evangelist would copy her style, both the sincere and the false.
Verse 11 She was a known insomniac who could not sleep, and died of an over dose of sedatives. “a splendid score” refers to her ability to put on Broadway type shows to deliver her message, people would line up for blocks to see her productions.
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2014
Bhai Phonta is a Bengali Hindu festival, usually celebrated two days after the Kali Puja or Sakti Puja where the sisters mark the foreheads of their brothers with sandalwood paste and pray for their safety, well being and success.
According to Rig Veda, Yama and Yamuna(or Yami) were twins (brother and sister) born to Surya. In their earthly incarnations, Yamuna(Yami) once longed to see her brother and invited Yama to her house. When Yama, the god of death visited his sister, his sister prayed for his well being.
However, according to folklorist and social historians, due to various societal changes with the advent of agriculture, the sisters began to pray for their brothers' safety, well being, and success. The Bhai Phonta festival is rooted in that social practice.According to the Bengali Hindu lunar calendar, the festival is celebrated on the second day of the Shukla paksha of the month of Kartik ( Oct-Nov) in late autumn. Sometimes it is also celebrated on the first day of the Shukla paksha.
The sister puts a mark of sandalwood paste mixed with curd on her brother's forehead with her left hand little finger thrice, while reciting a traditional rhyme:
THE POEM: BHAI PHONTA (n-nasal)
"I dot my bother's forehead
Let there be thorns before the door of Yama, the death
My brother lives long, for ages
And be dotted by his sister
Let my bother be happy
Let my bother be safe
Let my brother be rich
Let my brother be pious
O Lord, make my brother divine
O Lord , make his life sweet"
The sister then offers sweet to her brother. Brother touches her feet if she is elder and gives blessings if sister is younger. The gifts are exchanged. The ritual ends with feast and special sweets as desserts.
The brother-sister relationship is considered one of the most sacred relationships in Hindu Culture. From ancient times down to the present day there are stories a legion where a bother sacrifices his life in the battlefield to defend honour of his sister.
We have observed this ritual today, 25th October. My sisters came and dotted me. They prayed for my well-being and health.
NOTE: On a special spot of forehead. The spot is at the root of the nose and between the eyebrows. In Yoga tradition it is called "Kutastha"" Kutastha Chaitanya". They are synonymous to Christ Consciousness. We feel the presence of Lord here first. Hence the ritual of Bhai Phonta is closely related to Yoga , the way of life.
RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY
(c) rajat kanti chakrabarty 25/10/2014
Copyright © RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY | Year Posted 2014
Have you ever imagined the world we live without women?
It is like a lung without some oxygen, agonizing and inevitably dead,
A face never with a smile, boring and unfriendly.
A cup of tea without some grains of sugar, bitter and foul,
A pool without some water, dry and empty,
A good ride on a bad untilled road, rough and uninteresting,
The earth without some drops of rain, an inescapable famine,
But how come with the great number of women on planet earth?
We still live to cry as a reggae legend sang “no woman no cry”,
It is because they permit evil as much as they permit good,
Gullible and instrumental in the hand of the wicked ones,
Ugly and nice, beautiful and dangerous,
Cunning like serpents, deceitful like chameleon,
Holy but liars, having a form of godliness but highly ungodly,
Lovely like little puppies, sweet like bees honey,
Women, an invincible force in our our world today.
Copyright © Joshua Akinwande | Year Posted 2011
Enjoy our parting day
the young girl child,
now full-grown wise Elder,
the brother she had taught to flex male muscle
without overbearing her Sister Gaia powers.
On this classic sun-baptizing fragrant May morning,
reflecting this same gently caressing day I was born
into earlier centuries of flowering cultures,
she prepares to leave me
as the length of our pilgrimage together
grows long enough to tip more poignant hello
into operatic final exit goodbyes.
I remember what I might have felt at two,
when she joined me
inviting me into our special shared world,
loving our polycultural identities,
nondual twins since infant-fairy magic,
not having previously known
how lonely love is without her.
Now, to stare remaining years ahead
without seeing and feeling her morning through evening present voice,
facing my own ecology of each Ego identity dying alone,
inevitably without her, or anyone,
dying without incarnate memories
of unconditionally cooperative love.
at two or three,
toddling outdoors in my most terrifying wild ways
exploring gardens and barns
chickens and pigs and milkcow domesticated wildness,
and returning to your crib to report back
all these wonderful worlds we would welcome
if you could only learn to walk and talk
I need not say farewell
as I learn to see forward as dying
into these deep rich memories
of learning to walk and talk with Sister Gaia's Welcome,
yet sometimes tipping, Wagon.
disappears as we stop over-investing in dominant negative
Yang, outweighing Yin's more integrally inclusive flow powers,
politically and economically,
personally and as a species,
intergenerationally and cross-culturally
now under-invested in multiculturing mutual-equity cooperative investments.
What is our mutual time-investment balance on this farewell date?
Do our mutual equity values line up, match, balance, absorb any lifetime losses?
Sister Gaia's regenerative trends
grow ever deeper cooperative equity-reinvestment designs,
policies and procedures for further self and other development
through EarthTribe Revolutions,
WinWin Life as LoveGame Health Theory.
We give evil, dissonant farewells,
nondual negative Janus-faces of Yang/Yin imbalance,
by seeing these toxins and poisons
and personifications of DeviL,
as other than absence of good
Yang/Yin balanced nutritional Co-Creation Stories.
This Final Farewell Memory
Earth's Embryonic UnFolding
of Love as stretching BiLateral Time's Black Hole
(0)Rigin Tipping MidWay ReVolutions
Yang(+) = Yin(-,-)
ThermoDynamic Prime Eulerian Co-ReGenerative Universal Function
Intelligent ZenZero Tao-Balanced fractal RNA-iconic-ionic enlightenment
as Time's bilaterally unfolding regenerate matters
of EarthTribe's healthy enculturating-revolving futures.
remembering my original embryonically environmental Hello,
Here We Are
incarnating in and out,
back and forth,
up as down,
Yang-out as Yin-in.
While Autumn farewell bears time's reputation for messy falls from grace,
this is prophesied in spring seedling beginnings
bearing message memories merging coarising births
of EarthTribe multigenerational,
His/Her Creation Story,
coarising nondual identities,
within Earth's ecology of regenerate-revolving design,
culturally deep enriching outcomes,
by turning down RightFisted AnthroSupremacy
to balance Left/Right Zero-Centric EcoSystemic Investment
and divestment, double-negative equivalent
WinWin DiPolarity Outcomes
ReGenerate Network Game Theory Development
from BiLateral-Temporal Prime Relational (0)-FractalFunction.
Enjoy this parting day
I have so loved beginning again together,
our mutually co-invested Creation Story.
Enjoy our continuing
final farewell day.
Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016
My Sister when I was about 8 1/2, I am 38 now, passed away but before she did, she told
everyone this... "I am going to be Ok, and will be with God... I will get a new pair of lungs and
some wings to fly with Him in Heaven, and I will be His little princess..." On the day she
passed, in the midst of the dust floating in the room. Rays of light shown through that morning
right on her on her bed, covering her, and I truly believe that God came and picked her up
personally Himself that day, and carried her off to Heaven with Him...
Precious on her last litter had a kitten that looked, and I mean looked dead on herself... So
we named her Princes... She was the most crazy cat I have ever known... and had an air
about her that said to all... "Hey!" Look at me!" "I am a Princess" ... She was so very proud of
herself for this, but never neglected her Mother's way, and was never disloyal to the family...
She always loved to play with us and her Mother (Chasing her around the house, daring her,
and reminding her to play), because I believe this... She was just crazy about life... "Just
crazy about it, and as grateful as her mother, and my SIster," because though my Sister,
though she was very spirited about her condition. She still desired to live her life just like
another child her age would, and would carry this burden from time to time, as it would come
to the surface, and make her blue, the fact that in reality, she could not... So princes would
just fly around the house like a whirlwind, and would always come to land in someone's lap,
or arms or beside you in bed purring or at the foot of someone's bed at the end of the day,
and would awaken as lively and in a dead run, to do it all again the next day... We loved her
dearly too... because of her adoring for her life itself... and the energy that she put into
enjoying it... Because she too, had lost her little brother, a few hours after he was born...
She too reminds me of my Sister Tina, in this way... That life is sometimes a struggle, but is
always evolving and always comes back to itself in time, and is always turning full circle...
and is forever advancing towards all in gratitude... and exists and moves abundantly, within
itself and lives for this one passion...
Copyright © James Long | Year Posted 2010
Ponder this thought my brothers and sisters with me…it’s just an observation
from someone who has seen the same things you see, night after night as I
walk the streets.
Who made that sister sell her body just to be able to buy your crack?
Who made that brother shoot another brother in the head, all over a piece of
land that neither of them owns?
Who made that sister have a baby at just 15 when she couldn’t even afford to
feed it or give it a decent home?
Who made that brother throw that trash in our streets, who told him he could
write graffiti anywhere he please?
Who told that brother that just because he wears his pants hanging off his but
makes him look cool?
Ponder my brothers now can you picture this with me...what if we stop trying to
live black and instead just be black and do what we all just need to do to do
right in life?
What if we each took responsibility for ourselves and stop blaming other races
and people for a ghetto we are each creating by the way we each are acting?
So, you tired of this ghetto and you wanna get out? Then take a good hard
look at yourself my brother or sister's and make sure that you are not the one
who is contributing to turning this place into a ghetto instead of a place you can
call your home.
Copyright © Jay Anderson-Taylor | Year Posted 2010
Personally, we clash because we want to be different
yet, this only brings indifference.
We have a chip on our shoulders as individuals.
We want to be innate in which one must be the greater person.
Personally, we confront each other about dumb things when it is not business structured.
Our conflict becomes that of jealousy.
Non-bias to gender this is, which cause differentiation.
We are the people of the cosmos.
Our brotherly and sisterly love is what unites us.
Let us learn from each other through the structure formed and join for a greater focus.
The reality of today states life is a place in time.
Formed by animal and by humankind, our living determines our destinies.
A common cause unites!
We are all God’s people.
We must bond in some shape, form, or fashion.
This is for certain and ascertains a more meaningful existence.
Our personality clashes should not stop us as individuals.
The multitude is what matters and we are in that configuration.
Inasmuch, integrity integrates.
Amour-proper allows us to become more diverse.
A greater determination brings forth application.
Therefore, we must concentrate within these thoughts.
Our single-mindedness plus our constructive efforts manifests destiny.
This is our world our universe.
Let us not asunder.
MAY OUR WILL BE DONE!
March 08, 2014!
Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2014
Here this soul
Here this girl turned into a woman
Here watch the Glory at its best
Here watch God at work
Here give compliments to the power of the unseen God
I write this with love in my heart
With tears of joy in my eyes
With smile on my face
With passion you provoke in me
With influence you installed in me
With glitters triggered by your awesomeness and selfless personality
With little time I got to know you
With the things I learned from you
With the love and laughter I shared with you
I stand here giving thanks to God with the big heart of gratitude
I stand here blessing the day I got to meet you
I stand here feeling comfortable with my skin with the motivation I got from you
I stand here loving myself with the self love you instilled in me
You may be younger than me by age but your impact is older
You may be far and distanced from me but your spirit still lives in me for the things I got to learn from you still live in me…
I here stand seeing the unseen God and work
I here stand seeing the construction of the Man above at success for I know the obstacles you had to conquer before crossing the bridge to the other side.
I here stand with smile consternated in my mind
With love flowing from deep down from the roots of my heart
With joy overwhelming my existence and with prayers of better future.
With this route you are taking I say let God be the director of it
With this path let Him be the foundation of it
With life let the advocator be the rod
With this moment let the rock of ages rock your existence….
Never stop being a prayer warrior, never stop being that Giant
Never stop leaning into your pillar….
Never stop shinning for that’s what makes you stands out
let God continue pruning yur pure heart and continue being beautiful as you are from within
Let love be the writer of your everything…
Let God hold a pen a paper and continue writing your history for yu….
Copyright © Nasiphi Siyolo | Year Posted 2016
It has been many years and I have had many struggles, and though I was sad when my Sister
passed... because I love her, and missed her so. I always knew that it was going to be Ok...
because she always moved and was eager to let me know this in the way that she lived her life
faithfully, and in this one prominent way... and if you truly have the time, and slow down and are
willing to look... You will see the example of my little Sister, and precious, and crazy little
Princes. You will see, and come to find it to be this exact way... because God does always have
us in His heart and in His mind and is always there offering us this truth... All we have to do, if
we truly want to, is have faith, and believe it and then claim it as the truth... Then we will see it...
I pray that you will never forget my little Sister, and that animals are the greatest... and that
they never forget, just like a human does, being taken care of and accepted, and loved... They
can sense this too in another, as they can also sense loss and loneliness and pain, and can
actually feel it as much as we can... if not even more, and they bring it back, this care and love
and acceptance and hope, in so many ways... and are faithful to it... As I believe that if they
have went through a struggle themselves... that they never forget what it is like, and move to
always bring another the promise that everything will be Ok... and move to prove this in all of
God love you and your new kitten or animal... I know that it will bring you only love and peace,
new hope and joy and add a new brilliance and dimension of faith and the proof of this truth to
your life... .
Copyright © James Long | Year Posted 2010
I am artist and poet.
Art is poetry for eyes;
Poetry, art for the heart.
They are me...I'm them.
Sister arts have ties that bind,
Imagery by brush or words.
My sister arts, me, are one;
They mirror my soul.
Sandra M. Haight
Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2015
Das Ein Männlein
The silent echo reflects through the lodge,
Ein Männlein Steht im Wlade ganz Still und Stum…
Repeating itself in the young boys head.
He is not yet a man, but stands proud enough to be,
Coming back here to relieve himself of his past.
Crying out as he reaches the splintering and tilted door.
The memories of the cold, the blistering cold overpower him.
He spends time collecting himself as the moon moves across the sky.
He had been here with his family-
Says the toppled dining room table.
He also wasn’t the only child in the lodge-
Says the curled up paper dolls in the fireplace.
There was music- Ein Männlein Steht im Wlade ganz Still und Stumm…
Echoes the toppled ivory-keyed piano in the corner.
There was a war, as the Russian Graffiti on the wall complains.
The crashed bomber-plane with the seat full of bones assures that fact.
He came back to the rotting lodge in the forest
Back to the overgrown pile of shambles to find something
As he digs he picks objects out of the rubble, a boar’s head, jewelry, dog-tags,
And finally the thing he seemed to have been searching for.
A baby’s bathtub, with a scrolled handle, stares at him through the dust.
What happened to the other child?
She still has all of her baby teeth in her sweet little baby head.
She’s been sitting in that bathtub ever since that horrible night.
When she was boiled to death by hungry war criminals.
Copyright © Kennedy Lea | Year Posted 2013
She reminded me of my Sister Tina... She had been adopted by a Christian Minister and her
family, as we all eventually were, each separately adopted... who lived life to the fullest of
faith. As they adopted so many children that had their own particular needs for love, and had
had their struggle themselves with their own desire for it... Tina had a rare lung disorder, a
form of Emphysema, and passed away at 6 1/2 years of age... But was as grateful for life as
I feel a person could aspire to be... Every time she was asked "Tina" How are you feeling
today?" She would fight, and I mean with all of her love for life to say... "I am just fine today,
and how are you yourself today?" And she would talk with them for a time. She could barely
even speak most of the time, and was in a wheel chair and on oxygen for the majority of her
life, but she wanted people to know still that her life was wonderful... and was still concerned
about another's day... She new that with God, she was well taken care of, and wanted the
world to know this too... "I have always found this to be the most precious and endearing
thing, among the very many things about her... and so the kitten that my daughter brought
home for us could barely meow, and welcomed life and struggled to embrace it even though
hers was distraught at the time...
We kept her, and loved her greatly, and intently for this one reason... and every time
someone was not feeling well, she would lay by their side or on there chest, upon their heart,
and would stay there purring until they were well...
A peculiar side note about her... My wife read the bible every day, and left it on our bed...
and every time Precious was in labor, she would lay on that bible, and "I believe" Be praying
to God for us and her new kittens that were on the way... That their life would bring a new life
of this kind to another's, and so I find that she reminded me of my Sister Tina... in so many
ways... because she was always grateful for life, and another's life, loved God, and moved to
show it in all her ways, and I always found that the name that we gave her "Precious". Was
the most fitting and adoring and endearing name that we could have given her... Because this
is what she, like my little Sister, was to all of us, and to everyone she came in contact with,
and who came in contact with her... .
Copyright © James Long | Year Posted 2010