Best Family Life Poems
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.
Visited you today
as the sun set in the horizon…
the orange tinged carnations
were a perfect complement
for the skies
and for you…
orange and blue
always remind me of you
the winds softly blew
and I just sat there
staring at the grass,
well more at your name really…
hardly believing
what I am looking at,
that it’s been seven years
of missing you,
of just putting that reality
at the back of my mind…
But there are days,
such as today
which make me
confront that reality—
I see your smile,
remember your laughter
celebrate your spirit
and your love
Tears, I tell you I have
the most stubborn tears
maybe because they
make it so real for me?
I look around me
and look for that sign
Nope, not there…
I say a prayer
and speak to you
thankful for the life shared
I kiss the date that you were born
and walk away
my reflection on the car window
misty
One last look around,
and then I see it…
a cat, as we drive away…
Skies now streaked purple and pink
**My brother would have been 40 today, May 6…
If I had three wishes and knew that they’d come true.
I’d go back in time. There are things that I’d redo.
I wouldn’t do them differently and change my today.
I would do them over again, in the very same way.
To hear my mother laughing, see my dad’s twinkling eyes,
hold my now-grown children when they were infant-size,
kiss my handsome groom again on our wedding day,
or sit in our old sandbox and with my siblings play.
If I had three wishes, I’d travel through the past
to do again my favorite things to make the memories last.
Thank you for the wishes! That’s what I would do.
But I only need the one. You can keep the other two.
Date: October 24, 2018
Three Wishes Premier Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Kevin Shaw
~2nd place
520 Standard Contest, any form
Sponsor: Brian Strand
a 1st place
Their lives begin, that special day
Your hardest job, is on the way.
Walking and pacing, all night long
Knowing that one day, they’ll be strong.
Watching them crawl, then walk and run
Treasure each moment, share their fun.
They grow so fast, enjoy each day
For sometime soon, they’ll move away.
Years of school, sometimes they will drag
We’re filled with pride, we parents brag.
Teaching our kids, always be kind
Lasting friendships, many will find.
Do as I say, not as I do
We all have said, our parents too.
The truth comes out, don’t cheat or lie
Don’t try and skimp, to just get by.
Take the right path, we try to guide
Sometimes they don’t, we let it slide.
Knowing they must, find their own way
Life is tough, on track they must stay.
Bumps in the road, many will hit
We as parents, just have to sit.
Learn from mistakes, it takes its’ toll
Their independence, that’s our goal.
The hardest part, is yet to come
When high school years, are said and done.
We’ve done our jobs, as best we could
We must let go, or so we should.
Give them their wings, and let them fly
As we sit back, and often cry.
Turning the page, is hard to do
Wondering if, they listened to you.
Reach for the stars, follow your dreams
It takes time, forever it seems.
Your heart will break, can’t let it show
It’s so difficult, letting go.
I carry my mother
like a rock in my pocket
that I just can’t seem to throw away
It serves me
no purpose,
it just weighs me down
~~~
When I first found it,
when I first picked it up
and started carrying it with me,
I thought it so beautiful –
I could look at it for hours
But, like my mother,
it never looked back at me,
never grew warm under my loving gaze
For the longest, I was blind to that,
Blind to anything but the beauty,
blind to the cold, hard,
beyond-remote nature of the rock,
of my mother,
my stone
~~~
I carry my mother,
a thought without weight
And she’s heavier
and she’s colder
than all the stones
there are
~~~
By the time I recognized her
immutable, emotional unavailability,
I had run out of joy,
felt depleted of hope –
But I could not,
for the life of me,
stop seeking a beauty, a warmth,
inside her heart
Could not stop
wishing
that one day this stone,
my mother,
deep inside my pocket,
Might just become
its own opposite –
Change from hard to fluid,
from cold to warm
But my rock, my hard burden,
will only turn to water
When my mother
stops being
a stone
Memories on branches live on and on -
multiplying since the world’s first dawn.
Fresh and beautiful in spring are we -
buds that blossom on our family tree.
We all need a place to build upon.
Memories on branches will still live on
even though - like summer birds - one day
we may leave our nest and fly away.
Busy we may be, but in the fall,
we’ll look back and tenderly recall
memories on branches have still lived on -
bright like leaves that decorate our lawn.
Winter’s snow covers us as we grow frail.
Yet through our posterity, we know well
what we’ve lived through never will be gone.
Memories on branches live on and on.
For the Memories Poetry Contest of Nayda Ivette Negron
NOTE: This poem means a lot to me for it brings back memories of my childhood. My father, a WWII veteran was, in my eyes, indestructible. There was nothing he could not do. My mother was a constant loving guiding force that led our home. They were always there for us. Life comes full circle and when I wrote this poem Mom and Dad were failing, elderly and a mere shadow of their prime glory. I missed those times and still do. As I raise my children I am nearing retirement and I wonder what they think of me these days. The same I hope.
Don’t fade Papa, don’t leave us alone,
Where is that strong man,
Who wisely ruled our home?
Strong were his hands that once led,
That picked us up when we fell,
And carried us safely to our beds.
Don’t fade Papa,
Who is this broken man before me?
It wasn’t that long ago,
He was the inspiration for us to see.
Life comes full circle to us all,
I am not as strong as I used to be,
“Papa come play ball with me!” I hear my son call.
Don’t fade Papa, don’t leave us alone,
Take us back, to our happy home.
Don’t fade Mama, don’t leave us alone,
Where is that strong woman,
The guiding light of our home?
Strong was her love that once led,
That tickled out tummies,
And tucked us snuggly into bed.
Don’t fade Mama,
Who is this broken woman before me?
It wasn’t that long ago,
She was the example for us to see,
Life comes full circle to us all,
I am not as strong as I used to be,
“Mama have tea with me with me” I hear my daughter call.
Don’t fade Mama, don’t leave us alone,
Take us back, to our happy home.
Honourable Mentions Worth Mentioning Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Richard Lamoureux
5/1/19
This enlisted soul
At eighteen years old
Barely a man
Not even street wise told
From the proms, to the camp
He kits out tomorrow
His future he stamps
Never knowing bloodied sorrow
In just under a year
He's older and wiser
To a theatre so different
Says his military adviser
Overseas he heads
Thoughts of back home
What goes through his mind
In eighteen years old roam
Where could he have been
In so short a time
Colouring books
Making joining words rhyme
As he looks to his background
What does he see
An eagle soaring
In the land of the free
The statue of liberty
And the bill of rights
With the thirteen stripes
And the stars to delight
He is just a boy
In grown up clothes
Another one lost
To a cause we will loathe
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/war-4.php
-The Same Old SongS-
That's all he ever talks about
~SKAT~
IN THE MEADOWS IS MY DREAM
Strolling, strolling we are in the meadow: airy and green
where asters, dahlias, nod and wink passing their green
With him by my side, the hours of dread and fear are gone
His blue eyes speak: "we're a match in heaven, always green"
Dandelion heads float like little parachutes while we walk,
he spinning me round and round in the carpet of golds and green
Eyes to eyes meet, no more words from A to Z, we need not speak
for our heartbeats duet in vibrato of love so evergreen
Afar we hear thumps of small feet and some thunder laughs,
He and I turn round we behold our kids innocent and green
Father God-- the author of love along blue feathers
and yellow smile is watching over us in that vast green...
_________________________________________________________________
8:40 pm , April 24, 2015
They met at first around sixteen,while they were in their teens.
A young man tall and handsome, a girl with many dreams.
Years later they did meet again this time he was smitten.
It took some time to hook this girl, eventually their history written.
He had a plan to marry her and move her from her home.
She'd have to leave her roots, the only thing she'd known.
Leave her home and family was what she had to do,
The love they shared was eternal even though it 'twas brand new.
This love they shared was a gift,their faith was also strong
They both loved many similar things like fishing, books and song.
Seven children blessed their lives, they started their own tree
So strong this love they shared, became one large family.
Both worked hard to raise them, devoted to each one,
They shared their love equally to each daughter and each son.
Education and faith were important, practiced with daily prayer
They fed and clothed this family with love and tremendous care
Each child was very different and different paths they took.
Educators, artists, builders, Lawyers and even cooks.
Each child found their partners, some added children to each branch.
All love music, all loved to read, a few even like to dance.
Their children had more children and the two were greatly blessed,
With lovely grandchildren with many traits that both these two possessed
What remained from the love they shared twas passed down through the line
A love this strong must be shared and it surpassed all time
Four generations have now developed from these two whose love began
So many years before when both had shared a plan.
Each twig shares a piece and resembles one or the other
For this love story that's been described was about a Father and Mother
I'd love to say they share a life together here today
But God had different plans in mind, for one he took away
The void he left was devastating to everyone you see
Hardest on the one for which he shared atop the tree
The plan these two created at the time they were entwined
Continues on by one so strong , who giveth all of her time
To the tree these two created which grows branches to this day
The love created by these two shall never go
I wander in the nature’s green, trees in rows the birds preen
Like a gem glimmers the morning dew, with a precious diamond’s hue
And flowers bloom as I gaze anew, eggs hatch to welcome lives in queue
I can smell the wondrous earth, the distant flow of water in mirth
It’s a new dawn another day thereof, wherein I sense his breath of love.
As I prod on the old man smiles, he delivers milk by cycling miles
Passing the farmers sweet abode, the cry of new life reaches the road
A child wails by the neighbour’s door, with a sweet candy her eyes adore
Roaming the street is a hound grown, pups trailing behind unknown
A jocund street undreamed of, wherein I sense his breath of love.
My dearest rush out sighting me afar, without whom my life is a war
The tiny tots in their cradles lie, as we sing a lullaby
This is the world I am part of, wherein I sense his breath of love.
© (4 Feb '15)
* Honourable mention in the contest 'Enter a poem #1' by Poet Destroyer
An aged rusty bed
and two pairs of worn out shoes
A clear sign of human presence
and we wonder at the life that was here
The umbilical cord that binds us to the past
Was everything genuinely better in "the old days" ?
14/05/2021
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Poem Of The Day -15/05/2021
The room is still,
Quiet but for wind and rain
Making music on the windows.
Empty but for endless shelves
Of leather-bound volumes -
The first editions you loved so much.
The desk is weathered, coated
In a film of dust.
The chair is old and worn,
Tucked in just where you left it.
I can almost hear it creak
Under your weight,
Hear you whistle in that absent way.
I can almost see you there,
Hunched over creased pages,
Reading Keats or Blake.
I can almost smell that familiar scent
Of fresh soap and musty books,
Of spices and cigar smoke.
She sits on the outer looking in
As the party is in full swing
Another family gathering
With all the happiness and laughter it brings
Her family….children and grandchildren
Her reason since their birth
Nurturing, worrying and loving them
Her purpose on this earth
She reflects back on their younger years
The days of prams, parks and play
Of afternoon naps and cuddles
Forever sharing their days
Always being needed
The apple of their eyes
Knowing their lives entirely
There to comfort their cries
Adults and teenagers now
The years have brought changes
No longer knowing them as she did
Absent are the daily exchanges
Without question their love for her has not altered
Yet the circle of life forever turns
She sits on the outer looking in
A stifled tear falls as her heart yearns