Best Family. Poems


Premium Member Where the Sycamore Grew

                                           _________

The sun-yellow house seems smaller somehow,
viewing it now, after all these years...
The street seems narrower, and the trees have grown tall..
And where once open fields spanned both sides of the road, 
there are small tract houses, where fences have bloomed.
Neighboring orchards have all disappeared
But, somehow we knew the house would be there....
As if seen from a distance, edged by seasons, yet clear

There's the path that we laid one hot summer day,
in the yard of this house that sits at the bend
near the end of the road, where the sycamore grew....
Someone else left their footprints that lead to the door
There's a rusty-red bike, and a skate left behind
by the squeaky old gate, that tomorrow will find.

As suddenly as wind will spring from the dust
thirty years fell away, and flew into in the past
And quickly alive, all the memories rise, 
     like a whirlwind of leaves, in a springtime of lives.....
_____ 
...Our first Christmas trees, and our first holidays...
    Anniversaries we spent with just pizza and wine
   The place where I cried long into the night, 
    as the child in me grieved for a mother who died...
    Long, starry nights, I was bathed by the moon
                    rocking my babes to a lullaby tune
_____
Yes....it is all captured there, in the small yellow house
Our very first house, with the snow-white trim

Strange, it may be, but I'm glad it's still yellow...
Still wearing the face of the warm summer sun 
The sun- yellow house, with a flagstone path
Where old slate stones bring the sun to the door
It's a path we laid on a warm summer day
in a place that we knew as our very first home
 
Just a small yellow house, with its snow-white trim...
that sits 'round the bend, where the sycamore grew...
Categories: family., autumn, family, house, life,
Form: Narrative

Premium Member The Mother Tree

The Mother Tree

I am the mother tree that spawned the seeds of you.
My children, you've grown and branched away from me.
You've married, left home to start your life anew.
Where e'er you go remember you're my family.

My roots run very deep into the earthly soil.
My centered rings are many, you may not yet view.
They show the story of my years of work and toil
And of growth and wisdom I've tried to share with you.

As you branch out, your little seedlings too will grow.
You'll try to keep them safe under your canopy.
One day when they grow up and leave, you too will know
The painful pangs of missing branches on your tree.

As they return for advice from their mother tree
Remind them to honor God with humility.

6-13-20


~First Place~ Poem of the Day June 15, 2020~
Non Human Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
Categories: family., birth, children, family, grandchild,
Form: Sonnet

Hard Times

When hard times come they sit a spell,
Like kin folk come to stay
A-packin' troubles, pets an' kids
That always get ‘n your way.
It's drought an' flood, an' flood an' drought,
There ain't much in-between.
You work like hell to make ’em good,
But still they’re sorta lean.

The ranch went under late last year,
The drought got mighty tough.
The boss held-out a long, long time,
But finally said, "enough!"
So here I am dispatchin’ cops
An’ watchin’ felons sleep,
In Junction, at the county jail,
A job I’ll prob’ly keep.

The wife, she works at Leisure Lodge,
Where older people stay,
A-makin’ beds an’ moppin’ floors
To earn some ‘extra’ pay.
Though “extra pay‘s” the term I used,
It goes to payin’ rent,
An’ after all the bills are paid,
We wonder where it went.

We hocked my saddle, guns an' chaps,
An' then our weddin' rings;
Then when we couldn't pay the loan,
They sold the 'dad-blamed' things.
We felt real bad a day or two
But then we let it go,
Cause it got Christmas for the kids
When money got real slow.

When hard times come they sit a spell,
Don't matter who you are;
They'll cost ya things you've set aside,
An' clean your cookie jar.
You'll loose some sleep an' worry some,
Won't pay to moan an' groan;
But hang on to your happiness,
They'll finally leave ya 'lone.
© Jim Fish  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: family., cowboy-western, family, funny, life,
Form: Cowboy Poetry

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Premium Member -unlatched-

_______________________

So young, I was, and so naive
There was no doubt, I did believe
this babe who's latched inside my womb
with ties we had,... would always be

Latched on was he, as he was fed
then later days, our hands instead
Not tall enough to open gates
I would reach the latch for his escape

In time he grew to need more space
The cord we had, still had it's place
The loving ties from birth, so long
were gently stretching.., moving on,
yet still remaining full and strong

In time he grew, to be a man
Our bond had changed, but still lives on
He fell in love, as it should be
His bond with her, I'm glad to see
doesn't mean our own is gone

Songs are sung when lovers part
but no song for a mother's heart
When new adventures come one day
and new roads take him far away

The man he is, has been set free
to be the man he wants to be
The child he was is never gone
She's letting go, yet holding on

If once, one wish, were mine to choose
so many would my thoughts pursue
But one within my heart still yearns
for just one day, the clocks would turn

Together you and I would be
sitting there among the trees
I would lift you up upon my knee
just as we did when you were three…


___________________________________________________________________
For Francine's Contest: Children In Rhyme
Categories: family., childhood, family, mother, son,
Form: Rhyme

A Soup Bowl Full of Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas, when all thru the Soup bowl,
Not a poet was writing, not even the musing mole.
All their pens were hung by the chimney with bubble gum,
Hoping Winged Warrior would lose and let them win some.

The poetesses were nestled snuggled in their beds,
With visions of their makeup now surely spreads.
While Silent One was awake only took a silent nap,
Waking Bobby May, who finally took his crappy crap.

Noises from the lawn where SOS was making such a clatter,
He was speaking in Klingon about the Borg mad hatter.
I then slipped by the window and dropped my hash,
Tore open the cupboards to hide the stinky stash.

Brenda Chiri & Susan Ashley were making angels in the snow,
For they were locked out from the bowl and had no place to go.
Lin Lane & Jan Allison got up early to make some grub,
Then left extra early to go to the local pub.

Brandy Nicole and Anne-Lise were looking at the moon,
While the Bard and John Hamilton were playing a chilly tune.
In the morn, Heidi Sands & Connie Wong were ready to write,
Dreaming of winning a contest all through the night.

Charles Messina & Chris Green having an eggnog beer,
As St Victor Buhagiar feeds the lazy reindeer.
A knock at the door and all started to stare,
Why its newbies Midnight Aurora and Hello There.

Now Gershon! now, Andrea! Now, Besma and Regina!
On, Sandra! On, Kimmy! On Caren & down under Maria!
Next time bring deodorant for it smells like a horses stall,
I need some fresh air, fly my pretties fly away all.



...sorry, if I left anyone out...will get you next time!...

~~~Happy! Holidays! Everyone!~~~





Nov.20.2019
The Night Before 2
Sponsored by: Joseph May 

Placed 2'nd & POTD~Plus 3'rd in the top 100 New Poems...Thank You
Categories: family., christmas, family, silly,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Come Into My House Lord

For Brother Jacob, our fellow poet,
who lives his life
real and true to the call of God:

COME INTO MY HOUSE LORD

Come into my house Lord.
Anoint my house with peace.
Adorn it with jewels of love.
May laughter ring from its walls.
     Bring children that call -
     that call upon the name
     of the living God.

     Break the tablets of sin.
Resurrect those ears and chins.
May light flow back into young eyes.
Let them not sleep with unholy light.
May their conversation be
     holy and hopeful.
     May it spread
like a passionate fire until the end,
for these children are yours;
raised for such a time as this.

Lord, let parents and grandparents
rest on your word, like a comfy-soft pillow.
May they primp and fluff the word of God,
reviving it, making it fresh
     for those little ears
     and teenagers
     and young adults.

Come into my house, Lord.
Let your footsteps be found.
Let every room be blessed
with your oil of gladness.
Overflowing…overflowing -
flood of goodness, your lovingkindness.

Break the habit of sin.
Throw it into the pit.
Raise your arms.
     Wait for it!
     Wait for it!
Blessings that can’t be contained.
They far outweigh the gods of yesterday.

9/7/2021
Categories: family., christian, family,
Form: Verse


She Calls Me Home

She Calls Me Home…

At days long end
Left on troubles shore
When I just know
I can't take anymore
When the last light
Of hope is gone

She calls me home
She calls me home

When my thoughts
Are racing round
And I can't find
A friend in this town
When every door
Has turned out wrong

She calls me home
She calls me home

She calls me home
To her embrace
Wipes the tears
From my tortured face

Calms my soul
Til the demons are gone
And with her sweet voice
She calls me home

When the dark
Won't give up light
When the wrong
Outscores the right
When the noise
Outdoes the song

She calls me home
She calls me home

When the clouds
Won't seem to break
And the sky
Just seems to ache
And the sun's
Completely gone

She calls me home
She calls me home

She calls me home
To her embrace
Wipes the tears
From my tortured face

Calms my soul
Til the demons are gone
And with her sweet voice
She calls me home
Categories: family., angst, caregiving, childhood, devotion,
Form: Couplet

Premium Member Loving Helena

The chair is her home, her universe now
It is all that her many years will allow
Helena’s elegant beauty once shone
Now her mind wanders a world of its own

Age has changed her body but not her heart
Many great stories she’d always impart
To the wide-eyed grandchild she admired so
A girl who has loved her since long ago

Tales of black velvet gowns in which she’d dance
Soft moonlit beaches where she found romance
Economic hardships that came to pass
The rise and the fall of each social class

Her hands and face are now weathered with age
Accounts of the past still flow from this sage
And though some repeat again and again
I still listen now, just as I did then

I’ve memorized these tales, her gifts to me
And always I’ll remain her devotee
It matters not that my name escapes her
Love from her eyes she can always confer

Grandma brushes fingers across my face
And whispers, “Beautiful,” as we embrace
Though I miss years when she knew me so well
I know in the past her memories dwell

My love for her lingers, it always will
I take comfort knowing she loves me still
Categories: family., family, peopleme, grandchild, universe,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Pride and Joy of His Family

Having lived on earth for some time now
Impatiently he dwells, harboring self doubt.
In face of impediments he loses his mind
Acquiring dispositions like hate and lies,
Hosting showmanship to look good and wise.

Never does he claim his world to be saintly
Letting dreams reign and thoughts go wild
Acknowledging failings incapable of verity.

Risking happy tears, triumphs he celebrates
Saving saddened ones to mourn disasters,
Banking on the strength of worn-out hands
As unforgiving minutes tick-tock forever. 

When he gets a turn at the wheel of fortune
Losses seem to mount at every pitch-and-toss,
Regretting moments when he says:"hold on"
For he loses the ground on which he stands.

Yet he carries on, in treacherous currents
Swimming boldly in shark-infested waters
Accepting the reality of fish-eat-fish world.

Unsatiated reveries bestow vacant dreams 
Never ever venturing to walk with the Kings,
Commoner he is, like his friends in drudgery.

Pride and joy of his family, a Man he's already!

Truth he owns, is the truth he delineates,
Being a flawed man, for forgiveness he prays.

October 21, 2018
Poem of the day on October 23, 2018
Placed first in..In response to Rudyard Kipling's poem IF
Contest by Silent One
Placed 3rd: Strand select 12 by Brian Strand
Categories: family., integrity, life, men, people,
Form: Verse

Crushed

Look past
the faded little girl    braids and bows 
in a       polaroid picture
buttery yellow skirt 
curtsying     a smile
frog prince 
imprisoned      in her palm
under a creamy pound cake     sun 
(her grandmother’s recipe
sugar and spice folded carefully
with love and guilt
into a    thick summer sky)

daisies    like polka dots
piecemeal    on her bonnet
seem to stare       down
her face        with jaundice eyes
slanted above    ensnaring weeds 
swirls of sorrow    linger
 in knee-high field
where flowers grew wild         like 
freedom once felt

Look closer   picture fading
She         is running
legs bent      shouting from the page
stockings          peeled off
lanky legs    running
through                     her pain
till her heart        detaches
from a barefoot soul  
She still feels    spiky burs      in her heels
drops of            blood  
 zigzag               numb
beyond the treeline
memories   meld 
love and loss 
euphoric rush    warm winds fuel
an urgency         her creation
until lightning strikes
her grief   rushing to catch up  

through crushed wildflowers
fragmented patterns
under paths        at her feet
tears flooded       her field overgrown
She remembers   to forget
                Her mother
       buried         under 
        a distant willow      

She was taught 
by her grandmother
to be composed     
poised      like other girls
wad up      unpleasant feelings
slip them into    a corner 
of the cedar chest
under layers 
of afghans and quilts     
she     laid them to rest
long ago      but
never stopped
 her fidgety legs         from weaving 
through        floral tapestries
of field and meadow
wild brush turned emerald green      
in mourning

Her daddy passed away
ten years ago    today
He was buried       with wildflowers
tucked softly 
in his     lapel           and praying hands
he always said       windswept blooms
reminded him        of his girls

If you look closely     at the picture
of that faded little girl        
you will see her running
     from the graves 
         as the wildflowers crush
              beneath her feet
Categories: family., daughter, death, family, memory,
Form: Free verse

A Rose For Rita

Here’s to the travellers,
   the passengers, the tourists
who trek this alien landscape
   in search of experience.

Here’s to the resilient,
   the adaptable, the survivors
who chose uneven ground
   and made a path for others.

Here’s to the dreamers,
   the poets, the believers
who see the cosmic cycles
   of life, death and rebirth.

Here’s to the family,
   the siblings, the bonds
that protect and comfort
   because love is never lost.

Here’s a rose for Rita,
   for Les, for Reen, for Mom
and all the souls we’ve lost
   who have gone home again.

For we are the aliens,
   not of this Earth, interlopers,
we belong to eternity
   and to eternity we shall return.

NOTE:
     Last night, Aug 20, 2019 my sister Rita Rose (her married name) lost her battle with leukemia and kidney disease, passing behind the curtain peacefully, joyfully returning to her husband Les whom she lost just nine months ago. Our mother passed only two months ago at the age of 92 while my brother's wife Reen died in April of 2018. Please send your love to Rita's daughter Heather and her grandchildren.
Categories: family., death, family, life,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Diamonds

On earthen shores are treasures

                                 Of love, of joy, of life

                                A family's forever bond

                            The children, Husband, Wife

                           Treasure troves of memories

                          Within' these earthen treasuries

                          The blessed earthly life of years

                     And yet, can break, and rush to tears

                   The tears like diamonds fall like the sands  

                      Lift them Father, within Your hands,

                       The broken hearts in sorrows weep  

                     And in Your love, please. Father, keep  

                    Those washed in tears sweet memories

                         Flows from earthen treasuries

                  Comfort the broken, draw close and near
 
                          Drying, every diamond tear

                          
                                         Amen
Categories: family., death, faith, family, father,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member To My Children

Drive mindfully, dear children, as you traverse hurdled highways of life,
Cognizant that adjacent to an oasis of joy, lies a desert brooding strife;
Assume charge of your chosen path, obey rules of road as you ride,
Pursuing life’s aspirations you vie, with compass of mind as your guide.

Beware things luring you with glitter, may be just metal, feigning gold,
Love superficial, love that is shallow, never the love for you to behold;
Don’t let a mirage~ a spurious illusion~ become an aspiration of hope,
Life, a vast ocean, as it ebbs and flows, learn to navigate, strive to cope.

As shrouds and clouds obscure life, seek enlightenment to wear a smile,
Defy encroachment of grimace, defy the vibes that cramp your style;
Embrace blissed domain of empathy, proffering missives angelic, kind,
Yield to others, who are lost, show them the egress destiny designed.

Build your abode on pillars of morals, revering honesty, and trust,
For they are the hallmarks of people, respectable, equitable, just;
Mind your paradigms and proverbs, practice always what you say,
Extend genuine gestures of regret, when actions have gone astray.

Be grateful for family and friends, honor them in prayers of heart,
Create keepsake albums of memories, life-scapes endearing impart;
For they are the priceless treasures of love, omnipresent lifelong,
Inspiring, nurturing you, reassuring all along~ love can do no wrong.
Categories: family., children, encouraging, family, inspirational,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Things That Seemed Poetic

Things that seemed poetic were
always sad, though I yearned for
glitter and my dad's guffaw, which
never came. Familiar things were 
always drear -- repeated motions 
in the same old game. There were 
only distant glimpses of budding
Spring, fleeting views of daffodils. 
The strongest poems dealt me 
death and dying. Still, I always 
hoped, never went under to gray 
despair, forever dreaming of a 
garden of love we could share -- 
but those forbidden delights 
faded quickly away. The only reality
I understand is the ever-looming
and final one. Nothing's changed.
The strongest poems deal 
death and dying.
Categories: family., angst, childhood, death, depression,
Form: Free verse

The Old House

Seven generations walked through your door,
Which stood so strong and always welcomed in.
You said goodbye when boys headed to war,
Two soldiers lost to battles they can’t win.

Your kitchen always busy as a bee,
With canning, baking apple crumble cake.
Stone hearth, a place for warmth and drink some tea,
The table decked with riches to partake.

The living room a place to sit and chat,
With pictures hanging for one hundred years.
A chair still there where ancestors once sat,
This room for laughter and at times for tears.

Your nursery where many babies grew,
With bassinet where ev’ry child did lie.
The paint would change at times from pink to blue,
A place where time would always quickly fly.

The floors within have felt each child’s first walk,
Their worn out wood drowned many times with stain.
You watched the aging people gently rock,
You’ve heard and felt the tapping of a cane.

I stand and listen in your sacred halls
And feel that you’re a part of everyone.
Each breath we took embedded in your walls,
Of fathers, mothers, daughters and of sons.

Old house of stone your warmth embraces me,
Your children now all scattered far and wide.
You still stand proud for all the world to see,
The thoughts of you, sweet memories inside.

The house my children grew up in.

Iambic Pentameter  
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 
10.02.2014
Giorgio’s Contest: Iambic Verse III
2nd
Best of 2014  1st place
Categories: family., childhood, family, house, memory,
Form: Iambic Pentameter
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