Mother Age Poems

Since the Hard work you did, 
siblings of you still called you "mid", 
because their jealousy was full of shi** , 
and they are all...

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Double pain in my heart
The sad I feel tears me apart
From my our family I had to band my brother 
That would of killed our...

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A fanta see overrides reality!

Hello?
I like to get positioned for sixty nine. 

Are you looking for a scheming, 
schlepping, and schvitzing writer? 
natural body and...

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It's changing.....
Vastly and speedily before our eyes

O, Mother Gaia
Kali to Satya

A cyclic continuum.....
Vestiges of a time before

Conspicuously and inconspicuously transitioning to 
a new lore

From 'Iron'...

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SPHINX STONE 

I am Sphinx Stone
Sun stationed statue
silent sculptured synoptic 
not marble or granite 
nor black tourmaline or
crystal sapphire quartz
vortex for Void actualising 
sacred amber...

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The mirror reflects a lifetime etched upon my skin; a canvas of stories whispered through maturity. I stand before it, middle-aged and exposed, my nakedness...

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The Age of Man

We carried on
The age of man
Till moon of tin bore
An electric sun

And all machines 
Shone bright and clean
Keeping silent
But wanting more

Till the...

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April 9th, 2024 would be ninety fifth birthday poem for dearly departed papa

The following words crafted soon after the soul of me daddy set adrift...

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I hug secrets
  and dusty thoughts
          fading
falling into silence
   becoming invisible

My mind is...

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Mom
Poem
Lionel Derbyshire

Where is my metal
When i am weak
Where is my coastline
From the deep...
Where is the fountainhead
Of our parenthood
Her heart is never
A padlock
She rubs my ear
And...

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My mother and father never wavered in their routine. After each one of my siblings sprang into life, my father sat on the porch and...

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the pain is a mothers warm kiss

but my mother never kissed me

kisses were replaced with hits

words of love were twisted into hateful stabs

my mother could...

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Daylight savings time more'n minute effect on me

In 2024, daylight savings time will begin at two o'clock ante meridiem on Sunday, March tenth. That will...

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Her Story 

Her story 
What lies behind the smile 
Whew, Chile.....
Are you ready? This may take a while 
Her story doesn't get told 
As much...

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If, into my future, I get a sudden chance to peep
I'd choose my ninety-fourth birthday hoping am still alive;
My mother left us at that ripe...

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