Best Child Poems
Sunlight rains upon my face
Cascading memories cloaked in mystery
Kissing my eyelids
Ancient teardrops glide down my cheeks
Warmth illuminating my hungry soul
A sense of calm
A pulsating ellipse emerges before me
I dive into the magenta abyss
Releasing my wounded heart from its cage
Fear resides
Primal vibrations guide me
Becoming one with galaxies and starlight
My limbs relax
I flow ~ I undulate
I swim in the warmth of the universe
Time and space have become me and I them
Perched on a massive salt-stained boulder
Gazing towards the briny distance
Shades of White
A passionate brushstroke across the horizon
Sky and sea in a lover’s embrace
Caw .... caw ..... caw....
I feel you beckon me
Swallowing the sweet pit of truth
Nudged by a warm gust
I look down seeing the bundle
cradled in my arms
Your endless gaze speaks lifetimes of wisdom
Birth, struggle, bliss, challenge, and death
I watch you intently readying yourself
to pounce upon your unsuspecting prey
Riding this timeline of life
Together as one
Tick tock
Forward backward
Inward to the beating center of creation
Young one I see your sage reflection
In my gilded hand mirror
Me here and you there
Your smiling eyes
Tearing at my core
Come float with me
In sheer turquoise splendor
Adorned with seaweed crowns and abalone jewels
Rays of light penetrate the watery depths
Colonies of majestic stingrays hover nearby
Welcoming us to join their scared dance forevermore
The old man sat with eyes closed, dozing in his chair
Until a little voice he heard say “Grandpa, are you there”.
He gazed upon a little boy while waking from his nap
Then reached down with a sweeping move and placed him in his lap
The child was carrying a book that he wanted him to see
He held it up and asked him “Grandpa, will you read to me”?
The old man cleaned his glasses then opened up the book
And suddenly the two of them a wonderous journey took
They ventured lands so far away, sailed seas not sailed before
Met knights and kings and wizards on every distant shore.
Together they fought dragons, saved damsels in distress
Freeing lands of monsters and the treasures they possess
When the old man closed the cover to end their magic ride
He told the boy “We're much like books, what's important is inside”.
But one day when the boy arrived and rushed to Grandpas chair
Much to his disappointment, his Grandpa was not there
He ran to find his mother for surely she would know
Why the chair was empty, where did his Grandpa go
She sat him down and asked him if he remembered in each book
The adventures and the journeys that he and Grandpa took
He took you there to show you the things that you can find
The wonders that are yours to see if you open up your mind.
But he still walks beside you in the stories you have read
You're not left to go alone, he’s just gone on ahead
The child then went and chose a book and climbed up in the chair
And opening up the cover whispered “Grandpa, are you there”?
I woke up that day with tears in my eyes,
after I heard about your father's demise.
Guess you've never understood,
the point of being his blood.
I remember when your mother left,
how he was totally bereft.
Ran off with the man next door,
not once did he call her a whore.
Not once did your mother call,
too busy having a ball.
Forgot about her only child,
to live a life fun and wild.
He knew he had to be strong,
so the world would do you no wrong.
Every night he held you tight,
his eyes your guiding light.
Every time you would cry,
he would kiss those tears dry.
Worked three jobs so you had the best,
not once did he fail in your request.
He suppressed all his sorrows deep inside,
he was broken but never did he subside.
Single he remained for the rest of his life,
dedicated to you, so you would not face strife.
Yet you too, decided to walk away,
tell me what led you astray?
You called him a religious bore,
when you ran out of that door.
He had your best interests at heart,
but you belittled him for not being smart.
Then you wonder why he finally broke,
all that stress gave him a deadly stroke.
Now you stand there with your unfaithful mother,
with someone who is young enough to be your brother.
Crocodile tears stream from your artificial face,
as his coffin is lowered into his final resting place.
How ironic it has started to pour with rain,
maybe it's God washing away all of his pain.
Don't come running to me for sympathy,
I have no time for those with no dignity.
All his sacrifices now you seem to realise,
but he can't hear you, it's too late to apologise.
Because of you he lived a life heartbroken,
forever you will regret those words unspoken.
P.S
If you think his inheritance will help your austerity,
he wasn't that stupid, he left it all to charity!
The Silent One
16 February 2018
Based on a true story
In a world full of unwelcome nightmares,
I recite dreams of poetry to the one who cares.
I'm pondering a perfect metaphor,
trying to portray my mum's devotion.
Thinking about what her heart adores,
releases a fountain of emotion.
I'm surrounded by perennial petals and poignant poetry,
yet unable to bloom words or blossoms
to justify her prestige and preciousness.
On days of darkness,
in the angst of a black and white world,
when life felt like a kaleidoscope of chaos,
you placed reflective rainbows in my soul,
reminding me that life is a painting and you are the artist.
Gifted me a box of crayons to create my own horizons,
so I could discover a dream in all colours -
living in a daydream of aesthetic artistry.
When constant commotion from crows
left me mute like a silent nightingale,
you showed me how to love in silence,
healing these wounded wings -
to ensure I would continue to soar.
For a boy in a fatherless existence,
life can be a wild game of survival,
so I feel for a child without a mother's love,
deprived from a treasure chest full of diamonds and gold.
Without you there would be no words or roses,
as you were the first verse in my poem -
the sweetest heavenly scent.
If only there was a field of forever flowers,
with prosperous promises of an Edenic eternity,
then I would always have you by my side.
If we don’t feel with our hearts, we don’t belong
If we don’t see as one, the world is wrong
Beyond the wars and the hate and the insanity
We are all connected as humanity
We are the child with cancer who still wears a smile
We are the kid from the projects facing trial
We are the pregnant teen feeling lost and used
We are the elderly man in a home abused
We are the young couple, marriage on the rocks
We are the homeless one in a cardboard box
We are the cold and hungry, sad and depressed
We are the lonely child who never felt blessed
We are the woman whose life was filled with pain
We are the man standing alone in the pouring rain
We are the child who struggles day to day
We are the teenage girl who ran away
We are the soldier killed in an unjust war
We are the young man who can dream no more
We are the inmate locked away for life
We are the old man who has lost his wife
We would be better off without our vanity
And have a sense of belonging to humanity.
in the uncoloured tint of another everyday
amongst the spit polished waxed apples
tightly packed in burlap bags
they walked like minded
in their own burly wrap
oblivious to the irony
to their similarity
of the markets round red fruit
unaware of the tragedy
the horror of events yet to come
it will rain metal shrapnel
as human minds grasp
with the purpose of their existence
as in their ignorance
they understand their worth as human bombs
with a belief the heavens will open the gates
with a fanfare and a promised blessing
for their divine act of unquestioned belief
the clay shaped bricks
the black iron metal stairs
the drum sound of engines
then the lull
not after
but before
before
the pulse of the storm
the rain of death
yet this moment captured
this photograph
with man and child in hand
smells sweet
you wonder
bemused
why?
the world travels
aimlessly
singularly
no one
nothing in the universe
suggests
exposes
even a hint
even a glimpse
not a clue
that would lead
reveal
an answer.
life in its contradiction
like the proverbial apple
offers both
the miracle
the curse.
09/23/2014
a balloon
canary yellow
the sun on her leash
AP: 1st place, Honorable Mention 2020, Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on June 26, 2020 for contest STRAND COMPLETELY NEW POETRY (1) sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - HONORABLE MENTION
POTD - June 26, 2020
Dream
My mirrored reflection silently speaks
You honor me with your vulnerability
Your scars of life
Your unhealed wounds of betrayal
Dream journals tattoo your body
Your open arms of desire call to me
With eyes closed I sense
Whispers of your silky wings
Fluttering against smeared panes of glass
Separating us in the night
Your voiceless screams
Crushed pink musical notes hover close by
Magical music envelopes me
Dancing sounds emanating from
The depths of your kaleidoscope soul
A rebirth of desire
You are my child
My eyes call to you
Fragile strands of distance
Separate us
My child
I long to touch you
To hug you
To comfort you
Our palms meet
Mirroring one another
Rising them above our heads
We create a circle of life together
Only the transparent looking glass
Keeps me from feeling
The warmth of your touch
I read stories to you
You cannot hear me
I turn the book around
Pressing it to the glass
Not knowing if you
Can interpret the words
Hello my dear child
I am here to make you smile
I will dance for you
I will pantomime
I will become a dynamic octopus
Changing color and form
Before your eyes
I reach through the glass
As it liquifies and melts
Coating my fingertips
Hands and arms
In a warm embrace
I find you in the blur
Lifetimes pass
Time Inhales
Grasping blindly
I cup your shoulders
Bringing you to me
Dissolving all barriers
I press you against
My beating heart
Sweat glides down my cheekbone
Caressing your forehead
Leaving salty trails
Child of mine
No greater honor
Has been bestowed on me
Allow me to help you heal
As you have healed me
Cherished
Line drawings
Smiling suns
Red Dogs
Green Trains
Spider webs of glitter
Paper mache bowls
Painted in Aztec colors
Fill my dresser drawer
Remembering sugar cookie stars
Coated in Thick frosting
Sprinkles
Burnt edges
Many skinned knees
Broken spirits
Bactine and Bandaids
Notes by my bed
“I love you Mama”
These moments in time
Stored in the locket of
My heart
Forever
I kiss you now
"All Children Are Beautiful"
His heart of white, deep shallow wells, -yet beautiful
He smirks with a grin, an ego that won't let me in' -he's beautiful
Bastard of beauty, running ashes without a name
A face with no claim, a young man pound from shame
What is his sin, -he's beautiful!
I want to breathe from his ashes, swim through his veins
I want him to come into my light, like a good man
I sing and tell a tale, "A Bastard through the night"
His eyes I wage a thousand times, young and poor, I felt saved
Lying down in the arms of my white knight
My hair perfectly caressed, he came to my light
The furnace burned, the night was fast becoming trite
A lover, he did it well, then went back to his wife
A moment of gold, the ages live, his son is born
"He Was Beautiful!"
Another Bastard brought into this world
I don't want to be your sister
I don't want to be your mother
I don't want to be your wife
nor your mistress or a lover
I want to be the child
you birth on a wombless night
Sucking on your needless thoughts
Playing hopscotch in your mind
Building castles in your hand
take your footseps above the sand
I want to be the child
you birth on a wombless night
Your burnt sugar,Crystallize
Pour it across your sterile smile
till it sparkles in your eyes
Make you play games
grownups wish but never do
'Hide and seek,Catch-you're it
Pillow-fights, and Mr. Who'
I want to be the child
you birth on a wombless night
Make you soar where the winds blow
Reach the kite within your soul
I would camp inside your heart
Let our rhytmic beats impart
I would breathe inside your life
Bring the sun,and end your strife
I want to be the one
I want to be the inner child
which kiss your lips with bliss
and in your joys,reside
Her trembling twilight
dims with streaking purple tears
bruised by youthful years of bleeding pain
hurting but never hugged—
locked in arms of atmosphere’s apathy
that smeared with fiendish fingers
a contusing plum palette
across any hope in her godforsaken horizon—
this sorrowful songbird
who sings with the shattered purity
of violin strains falling from Heaven
finds her bemoaning musical notes adrift—
lost on breezy deaf days
as she is once again thrown down
from the self-serving skyscape
by the hateful hands of wildcat winds.
In the deep inkwell
of lullaby-less lonely nights
where never a tender nursery rhyme
has ever set her free
are memories scribed of storm-battered days
and weighing heavily on Libra’s scales
are the injustices
of dreams she will never live
nor flights of fancy she will never take
as her sire of solar scorch and temper flare
—a warpath warrior against her springtime
sleeps soundly on a bloated bed
over-stuffed with betrayal and broken promises
while her merciless maternal moon—
distant and cloud covered
does not bother to wander the coal haze
with a lantern’s sharp beam
to cut through stranglehold-folds of darkness
to cast a light upon; to rescue her fractured form—
an angel beckons as breath and beat fade
her guardian as she passes through Earth's shadow
beyond the coldness of mother-moon's umbra
following to where warm sugar-stars soprano sing.
Tonight— a stricken sparrow
folds her fledgling wings never to fly again…
will land or air ever miss her?
Old man
he lived over there
in a house of dreams
alone
every day
he fetched his mail
I woke
when he died
Now I stare at the window
where a little boy
watches me fetch my mail
alone
like visitors from outer space
they came with tears, and lined the sidewalk
long in face, and arms embracing
some (I have no inkling) who
they were or why they felt compelled to come
dozens came with casseroles
a few with flowers, wads of tissues
tender words of helpless mutterings
many acts of generous offerings
don't get me wrong, I watched the suffering
expressed in words or acts of kindness
I watched it all, and felt the love
did not dismiss the warm compassion
returned it all, with pure compliance
a thankful heart, a swollen throat
I hugged these strangers at the door
to comfort them, who shed their tears
upon my shoulder, offered them
a place to share their sympathies
a place to spend their mercy, pure
but, this was my child who loved and lost
impossible........I can't express it
protected from the very start, by
loving hands, her dad's and mine,
we watched her grow, and let her go
she grew from the vine ....into a rose
but life composed a tragedy, with goals
beyond our reach...beyond belief
beyond our wildest dreams
and left her with a loss beyond control
like visitors from outer space, we watch
as others come, and others go
they blow into their tissue wads
and empty the boxes one by one
and cry with us, and then they all go home...
do we cry........? Oh no, not yet...
instead we smile a grateful smile
and thank them kindly for the while
and for the ways they share their love
but we can't cry into our own clenched wad
of tissue from the tissue box
she needs us to be strong, somehow
and so that is the way it is, we vow...to hold back all the tears for now
for, this was my child who loved and lost
impossible........I can't express it
__________________________________________
4/12/13
I set up an easel in the shade of my beach umbrella. Wanting to paint by the morning light, I dabbed colors onto the palette...sea foam green, azure, titanium white, and ochre.
With wetted brush in hand,
I looked out, ready to begin.
But there upon the golden sand,
Ran my tomboy daughter, Quin.
An only child, Quin had long ago found ways to amuse herself. Since the age of three she'd insisted on brushing her own hair into a ponytail, Now, at seven, she hadn't yet gotten the hang of it, but fly-a-way hair becomes my little tomboy. I smiled when I realized how much like Quin I was as a child. I watched as she chased gulls and sandpipers, clapping her hands to keep them flying ahead of her running steps. A child of nature, she sees beauty in everything. She stopped and shielded her eyes against the rising sun with her hands. She watched the sandpipers land further up the beach then walked back to me.
"Mommy, do you think the birds
are afraid of me when I give chase?"
She waits to hear comforting words.
I smile, looking at her worried face.
"Quin, my darling, if you think they are afraid, find something else
to do that won't scare them away." She picked up her blue denim bag and skipped along the shore looking for starfish and sand dollars. I painted the scene I wanted to capture, but Quin became the focal point of my canvas. I used the green, blue, white, and ochre to paint what nature provided, but I used a shade called peony for the cheeks of my tomboy daughter.
sandpipers and gulls
Quin still loves making them fly
with paint on canvas
I am not a father
nor I am a mother
I am just a daughter
that is growing better...
Father, you have been away
I truly wish you have stayed
Hugging me as I lay
I don't need much penny...
All I have been missing
is you my daddy
Your love and your real company...
Look, how I am now
I pursued my little vow
Hoping always, You'll be proud
It's alright if you'll not be loud...
All I want is for us to bond...
Yes, I am neither a kid nor a child
Ever anymore
But still, there is that longing
I cannot deny...
I miss you much, daddy...
(c)
contest: POEM FOR DADDY
SPONSOR: LEONORA GALINTA
2ND PLACE - TO GOD BE THE GREATEST GLORY...
NOTE: I REALLY MISS A FATHER'S LOVE..