You came into my life, why? I didn’t invite you, I never wanted you around, you
know this , but you will not leave, you don’t know how much I hate you, and yet I
don’t hate anyone or anything. When you hate, to me, it is the same as killing. If I
only knew how to kill you ……. It would have been done many times over. I awake
every morning and there you are, ready to make my life miserable, the one thing
you enjoy most in your life. Wherever I go, you follow bringing your misery into my
life. Why cant you just leave and leave me in peace? I fight with you every day, and
it hurts so much, so much it hurts to fight with anyone, even you. There is one
way and only one way to rid you of me. I think of this often, but then where would I
be? I would not be, because you are part of me, your name is bi-polar. Handed
down from my father and from his father, and from me to my son, but he refuses
to recognize you, so he fights you without help he could get. If he would only say I
know who you are. I hurt for him everyday, and then I pray.
Oh God please forgive me for what I have brought upon my son. Son, I love you,
and am so sorry for what you go through. Maybe someday we will talk again. Dad
Copyright © Kenneth Fordham | Year Posted 2008
~This Is The Day The Lord Gave.~
That July 7 2007 was supposed to be my Birthday
But it turned out to be a tragic sinister day.
That same moment my son was supposed to come in a joyful way
But it turned out to be a devastation day.
What was supposed to be our celebration day
turned out to be our darkest Friday.
What was supposed to be an unforgettable day
turned out to be a wishful forgettable Tuesday.
What was supposed to be our family reunion day
turned out to be the birth of a hideous cancerous malady
that destroyed all of my sons upcoming healthy days.
That Monday instead became a wounded bleeding today
having to listen to what the doctor had to say.
It turned out to be 5 months chemo therapy of shadowy days.
Grace From Heaven
My sons soul awakened his spirit one night on his hospital bed
sleeping felt a hand pat on his shoulders
heard a voice,my son you will not die have faith
your soul will awaken and you will be cured.
Today 5 Years Later
Is What The Lord Gave.
Mother & son are miraculously extremely happy
out of the hospital he was flying away
no more chemo therapy & cancer out of his way.
Celebrating my sons healing soul will last Today
Tomorrow And All His Upcoming Days.
Thank You Lord
For Giving Us That Day.
Copyright © Therese Bacha | Year Posted 2013
~A Son Asked~
How can i give when i have nothing?
Because nobody has nothing you have
everything but did not know
you had everything.
How will i know if i am in love?
Everything you do is richer and
fuller when love is there only when
you fall in love when you desire with
passion when you miss the flame in
her eyes when you envy the ground
she walks on when you leave her and
regret doing so when your dream is
all about her wanting her to be next to
you now this moment this second that
is called a dream come true! Love.
Is living a dream?
Only when you wake up in the morning
full of love stay in love the whole day
no matter what look at the twilight
smelling the perfume from your balcony
having a reason to get dressed to go out
full of happiness energy plan an aim
with a goal & success this is when you
start living it becomes a dream come
Is forgiving a dream?
Only when you regret if anybody was hurt
if you stop judging & being resentful and
you can sleep at night with no remorse it
becomes a beautiful dream come true.
Is being human a dream?
Only when you will feel other peoples pain
when you will open your heart and even
shed a tear that is being human it becomes
a dream come.
Is sharing a dream?
Only when you start sharing even a piece
of bread give unconditionally listen to the
voice & respond feel the beating of a heart
be everywhere it becomes a dream.
Is friendship a dream?
Only when you become friends for
life it becomes a dream come true.
Is being compassionate a dream?
Only when you love life when you
feel you can climb on top of the
mountain and envy the beyond
& feel compassionate it becomes
Is being intelligent a dream?
Only when you use your brain towards
the right directions right decisions
be patient tolerant accept change
when needed proud of who you are
persistent succeed over the years it
will become a dream come true.
Is having a mother a dream?
I can only think about this reply:
Since birth until the end a mother
is the shadow of each child its an
everlasting love this is a dream
How will you know if you are a writer:
Only when you never stop writing.
Contest for PD About inspirational poems. 6/3/2013
Win as Honorable Mention.
Copyright © Therese Bacha | Year Posted 2013
My Son Kidnapped
My story is thee only one I needed to write
one year In captivity underground me and my son
days passed by we were prevented of food & water
bombardments outside were heard, suddenly a militia ran towards my son kidnapped him to be killed running after him screaming his name I knelt to pray
Oh my God without him I will die show him the way to come back
sleeping on the floor one night I heard him call my name I knew he came
we held each other tight our tears had no end.
Copyright © Therese Bacha | Year Posted 2013
I have a son
with more than his share of heart
and mindbody intelligence,
to comprehend vastness of Earth’s evolving history
and future demise,
to comprehend full emptiness of universes within
co-arising nondual universes,
enough intelligence to become haunted
by our deep dualist dark insignificance
as a species,
and far less value even than this de-commodification
of AnthroCentric Futures,
his own autonomous Ego value so inconsequential
he doubts his worthiness of food he eats
of water he drinks
of air he breathes,
much less worthy of employment
or any developing sense of vocation,
meaning midst his human comedic environment
at its best a good musical comedy cooperative network.
This, he can more or less actually find
but not so much within his own family,
much less school.
Well, maybe there were a few exceptions
to the individual student competing against all other students rule,
everyone playing an absurd Win-Lose game,
with loser death the inevitable outcome for each and all.
In the meantime,
should we choose to fiddle while Earth prepares to burn
why not orchestrate WinWin cooperatives
deep learning strategies,
more opportunity to improve interactive communication
and co-deductive dialectic analysis,
to live empirical-cooperative method
in an active healthy
mutual Win economic and political kind of Taoist way.
But, of course,
Taoism, in his expansive view,
hides in a Pandora box labeled “EXEGENESIS of RELIGION”
which is about a spirituality cat half dead
and unfortunately half alive,
as if spirit is any other than dynamic nature,
as if yin were other than absent reverse inside
yang’s revolving time;
spirituality implying he walks through a divinely inspired comedy
with few speaking parts and no solos allowed,
which he knows could not be true
unless divine inspiration
is no more or less
than human natural regenerative DNA programming function,
informational ergodic prime patterns and rhythms,
integrative predestination of phylogenic bilateral form
revolving through Earth’s interdependent spaciated orbits of time.
To what end
could we possibly become
for one who is humanist musical comedy cooperative-preferred,
with polyculturally inclined interests of rich dense fertile healthy sharing
but without actively articulating hope for any self support,
thrival nutrients for his body;
not just his mind.
Surprising to me
how my lovely son quickly learned to see
spiritual as natural nonduality,
but has yet to recover his embryonic mind
as body co-arising transparency,
much less divine as humane musical comedic unity.
Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016
He comes, a seaside golem,
walking like Frankenstein’s monster
because sand has filled the crack in his
behind, and his feet are shod in at least
two pounds of beach.
He carries his pail and shovel.
“Mommy, I have fun!” he chirps.
And I love him in spite of his sandy behind,
in spite of the leaden feet
and the grit in his hair,
in spite of the fact that I know who’ll be
removing the sand.
I love him because he’s my golem,
and, well, he had fun.
Copyright © Mary Oliver Rotman | Year Posted 2015
Feels like 1960, and none of us were formed yet, a spark on the verge of ignition, the movement primed with momentum. Kings, princes, boys, and adolescents waiting to take shape and achieve mastery. Right after civil rights, right before civil disobedience. We were just an idea. One man's interpretation of unity, now a burgeoning trilogy. We grow, sometimes crooked, sometimes broken and reset straight. We fall. We lend a hand. We pick each other up, together we stand. Sons should always surpass their fathers. Hopefully, I've shown them the sun's path revolves around disciplined repetition and no matter how dark the night, trust in God and it'll be alright. I look at them and see light.
Copyright © TS Lewis | Year Posted 2015
The Omnescient One,
The Alpha and The Omega.
Almighty, Powerful, Unfathomable Love.
The Head of The Holy Trinity.
Jesus, The Son,
Son of God, Son of Man,
Savior and Friend.
The Lamb of God is He.
The Light and the Essence,
Of God The Father, Himself.
Seeker of Souls,
Sent to comfort you and me.
Father, Son and Holy Spirit,
There's three in one, you see,
And we are created in His image,
So again there's one in three.
Body, Soul and Spirit too,
Again there's three in one.
He said,"We'll make him in Our own image,
And to teach him I'll send My Son."
"I AM THE 'A' AND THE 'Z' , THE BEGINNING AND THE END OF ALL THINGS, SAYS GOD, WHO IS THE LORD. THE ALL POWERFUL ONE WHO IS AND WAS AND IS COMING AGAIN."
"ONE DAY AFTER THE CROWDS HAD BEEN BEEN BAPTIZED JESUS, HIMSELF WAS BAPTIZED AND AS HE WAS PRAYING THE HEAVENS OPENED AND THE HOLY SPIRIT IN THE FORM OF A DOVE SETTLED UPON HIM AND A VOICE FROM HEAVEN SAID,'YOU ARE MY BELOVED SON IN WHOM I AM WELL PLEASED."
Copyright © Judy Ball | Year Posted 2012
You are the fresh spring air,
You are the warm sun upon my hair.
You are the cool morning dew,
You are the summer skies so blue.
You are the strong ocean breeze,
You are the gentle falling leaves.
You are the light that brightens the night,
You are the mountains filled with might.
You are the ever so changing snowflakes,
You are all that is good, which God makes.
You are my soul, and every heartbeat,
You are the one who makes me complete.
You are, my child.
Copyright © Kelli Settle | Year Posted 2016
You re-house Machiavelli’s soul in your foul frame
That soul great guides your head and heart;
Not what you learnt from the kitabs
Beacon to you is Lucifer’s own light.
With verisimilitude unseen,
With finesse unthought of,
You pose as a Judhishtir.
But Dharmaputra, I know you
Engineer mischief meanest.
You are the mid-husband of
Old rustic plot,
Vile stinking villain
You know not- unhiegynically you rot.
Copyright © Sarwar Morshed | Year Posted 2010
Why do you choose to stoop this low?
On the streets of savages and thieves you roam.
What has affected your sense of reasoning?
When in your father’s house there’s a huge foam?
Your uncertain mobility with so much savings;
hitting rock-bottom which I wouldn’t have guessed,
you waited to go through pains, eating with pigs;
sawed by poverty before you knew you’re blessed.
Your realization is complete, please embrace good sense
come back home and let your pride pretend.
You’re still important no matter how far you’ve deviated
because your welcome celebration, even the king will attend
Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2015
Son of the Sea TrilogyPart2
The Rising Son/ Dedicated to: The Slauson Village
On hot summer night lovers lay along the beachfront
Caressing each other so gently as the amber coals in the sandpits slowly melt away
The waves rise and tumult with such majestic force and beauty splashing against the shoreline relentlessly
Infinite as time itself and ever constant.
The pulsation of the conga drum permeates every pebble and grain of sand on the beach
The tinkle and the rat-a-tat-tat of empty bottles and discarded tin cans are transformed into precise percussion instruments
The melodic shrills of the magic flute weave it's translucent web encompassing the gritty growls and riffs that emanate from the golden mouth of the improvisational sounding sax...
The Dance Has Begun
Slender black bodies glisten in the soft moonlight...jerking and gyrating in perfect rhythm to the beat of the drum
The sweet aroma of herbs fills the night air and wine flows freely
Emotions are high and love abounds
The music reaches a crescendo and comes to a gradual halt
A long awaited sigh of relief can be heard then solitude follows...
Dawn ushers in the distant light
Destined to radiate its warmth and shine in the new day of the rising son
Check out our library of thrilling e-books @ amazon.com in the kindle store, or visit:www.booktango.com
Thanks and pass it forward!
Copyright © Allen Hackett | Year Posted 2013
My fascinating son
your divine entry in my life
was an amazing boon of God
that filled my heart
with ebullience and ravishment
you removed all darkness
of desperation and frustration
that my hard life ever had
and brought halcyon days back
my life was imbued with
excitement and exaltation
always my eyes were eager
to have scintilla of your visage
You have always been
an effervescent star of my destiny
and became quintessential
part of my life and
then developed a sempiternal relation
between Dad and Son
my happiness was beyond expression
to have a talismanic baby
now when you are a grown up
and matured son
I tell you one secret today
that all my troubles disappear
when I see my son smile.
(By Kishan Negi)
Copyright © KISHAN NEGI | Year Posted 2016
Since eternity past God the Father Son & Holy Spirit dwelled in unity and sweet fellowship.
Then Three-In-One decided to make a marvelous universe with an earth for life to dwell.
Creating an amazing array of creatures was the easy part – the risk was on the last made.
For unlike other creatures, man & woman were made in God's likeness with a Spirit.
That Spirit communicated with God, and harmony reigned as earth was well cared for.
Freedom to do was great – limited by but one tree that the humans were not to ear from.
At that tree, Satan disguised himself as an innocent snake and asked the woman questions.
Did God really say don't eat from this tree? Well, that's to keep you from becoming like Him.
Look its fruit is beautiful and one bite and you'll know what God does and be Jehovah's equal.
Eve was confused, for this didn't sound like what Adam said God told her, but wouldn't it be grand.
If God is so good, why would he keep this secret from us of being able to be like Him – is He jealous?
The firm, juicy fruit was indeed delicious, and she quickly called Adam to taste, which soon he did.
A small act? Every war, family problem, anger, hatred, lie, killing, stealing, rape, abuse came herefrom.
The beauty of God's creation was now marred with sin that affected every part with death and decay.
God graciously gave Adam & Eve animal skins for no longer would they live in Eden's perfect climate.
From now on there would be sweat for the food they ate and exceedingly great pain during childbirth.
Even their firstborn would murder their second, starting the cycle of revenge and killing that's ongoing.
Yet God also made a promise that one would come who would crush Satan's head while being bruised.
"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God" clues us in to who.
For God's Son Himself would come to teach, heal and offer His life on a Cross to destroy our death curse.
Our sins He would bear and in rising He's seal the promise of eternal life, so great we Jesus' love for us.
For Jesus the cost was unbelievably high, and for us the reward is incredibly great – if we but accept.
Accept that I am a sinner, I've done wrong and need God's forgiveness to live with His perfection.
Accept that Jesus can do what I cannot – change my heart, make my Spirit alive to forever live with God.
This being GOD, the promise of heaven and new earth is sure, though pain lies in between. Choose now.
For GOD and all creation cry out – this is what life is meant for – to know and love One's Maker.
As humans we live eternally with or apart from God, and His great desire is that we choose with.
But just as an earthly Father cannot force true love, nor does our Heavenly Father – He waits.
Though He made all and knows beginning from end, he waits and yearns that we receive His love.
Then love and be loved by Jesus in life's harshness & delight, sharing that love with other lost children
To work in harmony with the One who made us, makes life new again as our spirit is filled with new life.
There can be dry days when we don't feel His presence, and others so full that we want to shout for joy.
The fact is Our Father GOD, our Savior Jesus, the Holy Spirit, are always with us and never will leave us. Amen.
Copyright © Scott Bronner | Year Posted 2013
A moment of ecstasy, of being a mother,
A reverie of life gratified.
I saw a glitter as you opened your tiny eyes,
My very existence glorified.
Your charming brio and unsaid words,
Graced us with your fervor.
You smile, sit, stand , walk and run around,
Your little hands, tender kisses and sweet rhymes.
Your first day to school,your excitement,
Adored by teachers, grew to a vivacious being.
As you unveil your intellect, rise towards achievement of
Stand alpine with persuation, blessed with no dearth,we all
beamed with pride.
How could I let slip of my memory,
Joyous days when we resembled,
And few sad days of fight when tears rolled down the eyes.
A congruous relationship we had for all those golden
Myriad thoughts occupy my mind,
I dream of the day when you reach to absolute .
God bless you dear son! With His immensity,
May you stand sovereign, embellished with perseverance
Written June 7th, 2013
Copyright © Dr. Upma A. Sharma | Year Posted 2013
Mum, you bought me shoes, socks and a football kit,
'You were willing me to see me as your ‘hero’.
Fifteen years have passed away,
I still have your gift that you bought for me on Christmas.
Your son is a really hero, have you seen me,
I am top scorer as you can read in the local newspaper,
When I kissed my first trophy, my tears poured out,
My friends thought that I am crying in happiness.
Mum, have you remembered me?
As I know, I always missed your shadow,
I go to the pond every week,
Where you fed the birds and spent hours with them.
You never come to learn,
How your son spent days, weeks and years.
Perhaps you don’t know, dad also left me,
When you went out, he ran after you.
I saw his picture in a newspaper,
When I grew up a little, I heard from my carer,
Your dad died in an accident,
Have you come to attend his funeral?
I learnt when he left church nobody was behind him,
Only service that he received has been delivered,
I went often to kiss his stone, as I found him,
Few days ago it was a fathers day.
When I join my mate’s birthdays,
I saw their parents curdling them with gifts.
They dance and laugh, enjoy food and drink,
I feel loneliness and lost myself in puffs of smoke.
Always I got drunk but never forgot that incident,
When you tried to stop dad, not to drink more,
He pushed and slapped you strongly,
I saw blood touching your feet.
You don’t know, I also ran after you,
Door slammed shut, road was icy and frozen,
I hit a stone and fell conscious on the street,
When I found myself, I was in a hospital bed.
Mum, is your face looking the same as before?
How will I recognise you if I met you suddenly?
I am sure mum. You will recognise me,
At last I am your son as same as I am Dad’s.
Copyright © Daljit Khankhana | Year Posted 2011
The Son burst upon my days
taking away the mist and haze
of times less bright.
Now my spirits climb
with anticipation of all tomorrows.
Empty spaces now fill
as my heart stands still.
Lungs aftaid to breathe
in this illumination.
My heart does feed.
Words no longer on deaf ears fall.
The Son makes translucent my wall.
As day ends and night begins
a velvet warmth now sets in
and tomorrow holds the promise
of sun filled days.
I wrote this poem in 2003
Copyright © Terry L. Allen | Year Posted 2012
FAITH is a shield that covers a man from head to toe. True faith surpasses dead works. And now to this title poem. Ed. Note. There is GOD and his SON and his SPIRIT they aer three separated and distinct images and yet they aer one persona one giant mega person perhaps with three faces. No one has yet completely deciphered his image iff an artiste was to create to paint GOD eye suppose it could look something like an Ancient of Days upon a Throne not once but thrice with the same face three times the image of the SON being the predominate one. The first image an old ancient man. The second one is harder a Scepter in his hand of Righteousness a crown of Diadems jewelry that cannot be likened to money or material wealth but as a sign and symbol of his Authority. Jesus has a Crown for he is Ruler of this universe. The third image; that one of the Spirit, is yet harder to discern the same Jesus face in a burning glowing place. A Glow of Flame a Fire; however, made of warmth and love.
A SPIRIT made of GOD. He broke the Horn off Satan forehead gave the world back to the Flock. Gentle reader ewe just stop. Stop strife worry remember what a PRICE was paid for love and go back to the cross for there we pray. Yes we build all our deeds the love upon the Death, not counting all the cost our possessions all our love our very lives depend on Christ our King. A living GOD a loving Spirit a wonderful Father who gives more than mere health and wealthy love neither constrained or with any guile or predetermined Schism of the flesh just unconditional love without end lasting forever nothing ever is needed again love. Eye am reminded of the many infirmities of flesh the frailties of a man the Schism of his Grace as eye sit ici with this pen discovering all the needless hashing of old wounds fumbling at the hands and scars the wounds eye sometimes get as certain they aer thine not self inflicted or just mine. Schism is a wrent a tear in time the body dies the flesh in grave the light for all to see apparently asleep yet Schism thrives for eye have seen the Temple of the Lord a Saint a Lady in death’s place repose aware of nothing now her Spirit gone to Lord somehow twas more than beautiful to me no longing brought forth from Schism’s door a token portent of myself at play upon the earthly plain of dust the Grace upon her face the Peace mere word cannot her Journey over now convey, her Judgment come and gone and Heaven won all in a single word born. Jesus! Jesus! Jesus! Come. GOD. The maker of the Schisms all and one.
Copyright © charles hice | Year Posted 2008
MAS come on down front you have been chosen by the frozen tender tundra to eat the
apple i can give her. Staccatto beating in the background leaning to the south moving in the
night polish wont make green apple to shine. The love GOD has for all of us in is SON Jesus is
also inside us in our Souls inside our Spirit. He did this even though none of us are worth this
a freely given gift. Something that opens up inside us each and every day. Better then the
food we eat the apple red and green. Better then what people give on Christmas Day the
packages wrapped and placed underneathe the tree dont open that dont shake it up dont let
Johnny see. Perhaps its all the things that boy has stored up all year long some new toy he
saw on television laying on the lawn. He never picks it up now or plays for very long. This
Christmas please think of how the Son Of God must feel when we ignore his gift to us. I feel
so guilty of his love inside this green forgotten apple in the bucket in the snow. Sorrow not
the answer the apple catches worms so the food stored in the bucket doesnt turn to molded
into love when I get hungry having none I go to cuppoard never barren there. I cannot eat
much fruit anymore but mix the trail will fill me up when there is none to find in town. For
CHristmas is two missing weeks after Thanksgiving missing one. SUnday on the November
twenty nine untill Friday December Eightteenth then back for three more days then Monday
the eleventh of January I solidify for more solid days activities perhaps the apple won. Bright
red and polished up for teachor loves. Look for me with love.
Copyright © charles hice | Year Posted 2009
Morning dove sits upon her small brood
Warming and feeding her two small fledglings as they grow and mature
She knows precisely when to turn her back and push her young out into the world
Oh, please Morning dove, share a bit of your innate instinct with me
Copyright © jill spagnola | Year Posted 2015
Two boys lived by the glistening waters of the bay
They were best friends, running through the grassy marshes
Up and down the way
Chasing pelicans as they played
I would watch the two boys from the bay having fun everyday
Until the untimely day when the war came and took them away.
Two boys---soldiers now they had become
Carrying guns and ammunition, heavy as a ton
Fighting a war that must be won
A war caused be nothing they had done
Two boys were killed today
In a land so far away from their beloved bay
One boy died trying to save the other boy
The other boy is the one, I called
Copyright © Ann Bernstine | Year Posted 2016
with squinted eyes and pursed red lips
like any little child in time
but that you are mine
ask me..why are we sitting outside
I want to go Inside
your mind cannot yet grasp
the answer I know to be true
that one day a hundred years from now
when we have turned to dust
when you look at his light to Thank Him for your journey
you will pull this memory
out of your heart
like a diamond
glistening in the sun
and say ah..look how exquisite
look how exquisite
Spring Day; Poetry by
Susan M. Walker 2014
Copyright © Susan Walker | Year Posted 2016
His duffle bag is by the door
I ask him what they're fighting for.
He tapes the dog tags to his chest
gives the 38 one last test.
The baby's sleeping in the other room
he slowly puts his combat boots on.
He's got the shades, he's got the hat,
he packed the tent, he's got the mat,
a picture of us on a sunny day.
Was it in April or was it in May?
He hands me his last will
and reminds me to pay the car payment bill.
He already seems so far gone
and I don't know what to tell his son:
Daddy's fighting for freedom and for peace,
Daddy's sending you a kiss?
No, I don't know when he'll be back,
Daddy sends you a hug-around-your-neck.
Remember the games daddy used to play?
Remember what daddy used to say:
the moon shines for everyone,
I'm your Daddy, you're my son.
He puts his camouflage jacket on
and stands in the kitchen a little forlorn;
a soldier in desert uniform,
a soldier on his way to Desert Storm.
I don't want to think that he could die
and surely enough I begin to cry.
He looks at me but doesn't say a word
it's that silence that really hurts.
He left us a long time ago
when he first learned that he'd have to go.
He wants to be a fighter and a father, too,
he whispers you know that I love you.
He walks to the door and grabs his gear,
with his back to me I can't see his tears.
I wanna scream, I wanna shout:
Why did you stay in? I begged you to get out.
I'll be waiting here for you,
baby, you know I love you, too.
If you're ever in trouble think about me.
I'll give you strength, just wait and see.
If you ever feel weak just call my name,
my love will be your guiding flame.
When you're hurting and hungry and feeling blue
remember that we are missing you, too.
And when you return things will be alright,
I'll hold you in my arms all night.
He doesn't turn and then he is gone,
all I have left is a soldier's son.
Copyright © Ulrike Hoehne | Year Posted 2015
He woke in the chilling morn of Monday
Standing tall and stretching like a snake
His son lay carelessly on the old ragged mat
Innocence envelops him like a clean blanket
Unnoticed, he trudged past his dear son
Gathering implements crude and shabby too
He jumped without delay on his old motorbike
Rolling it away from the thatched roof hut
That the engine shrilling noise may not spread
Like the wheezing cry of the morning wind
Through the windows of many blocked houses
That never was heard in his old derelict hut
Wearing many tattered shirts, he zoomed off
Into the thick dark bush that stood just ahead
The speed was great and the rain drizzles
Drenching him thorough to his very soul
His arms shiver as they held the motorbike
Unsteady he rode on, into the forest
Before him lie, a thunder-stricken tree
Crossing the road that leads to the farm
Head on collision, the bike tumbled
He lay on the wet ground, without a help
It was still dawn and none around
He writhes in pain and with tears-filled eyes
Blood in his eyes, one thought filled his mind
His son at home, an innocent in this world
He wished he lived a better life than his
He struggled to survive death’s strong grip
Squeezing strongly the last of his breath
With tears in his eyes, the man died.
Copyright © Reuben Enahoro | Year Posted 2012
Another year has come and gone are you still
Are you still sinning that same old song.
Stumbling through life wondering why? Maybe
It's time to stop living a lie. Crying life is unfair
It will never Change maybe it's time to let Lord
Jesus take the reins.
While you are walking through life living the
Way of the world, witch do have some stuff
That will put a smile on your face and make
Your hair curl. Have your vision blurred, your
Speech slurred but when you are tired of the
Darkness look to the word.
That's if you are tired of walking around with
Your head to the ground at every turn life is
Giving you a good beat down. Now you are
Going through life acting like a jerk and that's
Because you are about to go berserk. It's time
To collect your thoughts and go to work.
I mean strive to make that Heavenly
Connection, then you will be guided in a totally
Different direction. Our Father in Heaven know
What's best for us, in Him you can put all your
Trust. So if The Good Lord you walk toward
You will not be disappointed and will receive
Your just reward. First here on Earth and at the
End you will ascend. Then receive a lovely gown
On your head a beautiful crown. No more of
People trying to treat you anyhow
Where Are You Now.
Copyright © Milton Robertson | Year Posted 2016
The unannounced tragedy struck
Now a swift and silent menace
Which stalks my every intention
Throws dodge balls at my anxiety
Hoping for a direct hit
A target painted on my wounded heart
While the panic sets in
Fluttering in my stomach
Swallowed hard in an attempt to push
Ends up in my trembling hands
That I use to pry the words
From deep within my silent cries
Cries that echo in my lungs
Lungs that can't find my breath
In the darkness from where
My nightmares rise
Those unannounced unwelcome blows
I cannot blink away with the tears
Copyright © Countess Arditezza | Year Posted 2016
L'amour pour les brebis ont des yeux est la même que iff nous wed.
Les sentiments qu'elle me donne ne sont jamais remplis d'effroi.
Mais rien ne peut rosée, elle me ferait jamais vouloir liquidation morts, mais la
vie à l'amour qu'ils font le temps de vie au lieu. Eye pourrait marcher les couloirs
de la mémoire et de vous déprimé ou des yeux pourrait devenir une religieuse
coupable dans le plaisir et repos dans le couvent jusqu'à ce que la mort peut
nous part de rosée de la mort peut donner mais ce qui me reste de l'amour.
Comment un homme peut obtenir si excitée un peu au point vert en quelques
clics de souris, puis une zone de chat blanc froid. L'encre n'est jamais humide
sur papier mye frisolée encore là, il est son amour. Quand elle me sourit oeil
sourire quand elle fronce les sourcils yeux pleurent une rivière de la stuffins
conservés dans tout repose autochtones découlant de faire une faute de la mort
semblent quelque peu à écrire les mots à la mandé coeur s'écarter de
s'inquiéter et de malheur et de prendre le tout nouveau départ Et bientôt tout ça
fonctionne pour l'amour. Blanche-Neige, elle a mangé la pomme, puis est
tombé à s'endormir rapidement mais Charlax venu à l'embrasser et à vivre son
éveil. Prince Charlax bons baisers.
En direct sur le ruisseau la pêche de libellules dans une maison de l'amour.
Mending coeur de charme. Faire l'amour dans le coeur. Mye neige blanche tortue
pookie pochoucntous amour mon amour mon internet thrall. Nous pouvons avoir
tout juste à tenir sur mes namme et de l'amour.
Les chercheurs ont maintenant prouvé que l'amour peut réparer un cœur brisé.
Copyright © charles hice | Year Posted 2008
I met you on the road of Longing,
As you took me hand in hand,
My heart burst with love wide open,
And so our journey began.-
My Kings, my life is yours,
I have lived to this moment for you,
And from this very breath until my last,
I am devotedly yours in all that I do.
We splashed and played that day,
Along the water's crystal edge blue.
As the grey heron gracefully glided,
And the gentle, green lace lay softly in dew.
I looked at my First King and asked,
As his eyes sparkled crystal blue,
What will you teach me this day?
For it was what you were born to do.
At that moment, I barely caught him,
As my dancing around him led to a fall,
And although I knew he was hurting,
With tears he said nothing at all.
My heart, at the mere idea of,
Causing my Little King pain,
Like the most delicate glass it shattered,
And I vowed to never be so careless again!
"My Dear Mom, don't you understand?
A perfect you is not what I seek,
I want a mother who is brave enough,
To dance with me when I'm strong or weak!
Your love for us is without limit,
In all that we are and that we do,
Give us the gift of loving yourself the same,
Be gentle and forgiving of yourself too."
My Youngest King ran up to me now,
And the sun sparkled off his golden hair,
"My Dear King, will you still find me beautiful?
Even when my glow and shine are no longer there?"
"My Dear Mother, there is no beauty,
Like the beauty you are in our eyes,
As we are to you, the green in your world,
You bring the blue to our skies."
There in the forest, I began to sing,
My sons' favorite lullabies,
And suddenly the birds all joined in,
Flitting down to us from the skies.
Although my voice cracked horribly,
And I constantly changed to a worse key,
I noticed the boys smiled and hummed with me,
As if I was in perfect harmony.
As the sun glittered down through the trees,
Casting green and yellow light shows all around,
I understood for the very first time,
To them I was the perfect act, perfect sound.
My Kings, I spoke, slowing a bit,
My eyes on the earth's raw floor,
What if I just don't know the right things?
Don't know the best or need to know more?
What if I misguide the King's best ships?
Or lead his finest ponies astray?
What if you look to me for help in need,
And I fail you on your most critical day?
My tears dropped heavily onto the wide leaves,
And my heart beat hard at the thought,
Cruze slipped his small hand into one of mine,
And Neeko the other then they told what I sought,
Our, dear, sweet mother we ask nothing of you,
Except your love and acceptance, nothing more.
And just as I lifted my eyes to see them,
I heard a distant mother lion roar.
You are perfect just by being ours,
Our Queen, our Mother, our Love,
Just as we, your Sons, your Little Kings,
Are your perfect gifts from Heaven above.
Come walk through this life with us, Mom,
And let use show you the many ways,
We can share our lives and the joy they bring,
In all of our many glorious, sunny, days.
And when your gift of unconditional love, Mom,
Has turned us from Little Kings into Great Men,
We will present you with gifts to show you our love,
A new set of Little Kings for you to love again!
Copyright © Elisa Christensen | Year Posted 2016
Your son is a liar
He says to someone
You have the longest
Wave in your smile
That’s a lie
That’s also a sweet lie
To describe a sweet love
Your son is a hustler
He goes in the street
Stole someone’s heart
Has a Mother’s Day
Your son is ugly
But his beauty
Honors your strength
And your dignity
He says each star is a
That makes you
A life creator
Your son is homeless
He says since your death
He has no place to go
Where can he find
The warmth of your arms
Where can he buys
Some mama’s love
Your son has a son
Your love will not perish.
Anderson Dovilas, in memory of my Lovely Mother and a great Mom.
Copyright © Anderson Dovilas | Year Posted 2013
I am your dad,
Hold my finger,
And learn to walk;
First few steps are arduous,
Hold my finger tight;
Life ahead is tough,
May have thorns,
May have bumpy terrain,
Be wakeful on each step you move;
Dad's hands always over your head,
As a brolly for shade;
In bad and tough times,
Follow you as shadow,
to keep you move;
© sadashivan nair
Copyright © sadashivan nair | Year Posted 2016