Best Generations Poems
Great grandmother Rosa
Grandmother Maryrose
And Mother Roseann
Daughter April Rose
Granddaughter Kayla Rose
Granddaughter Ella Rose
Love all my Roses
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AP: 3rd place 2021
Posted on October 13, 2019
Denial is a can of peas
whose contents
should never be indulged
beyond the expiration date.
Yet there I stood,
evidence screaming reality
at my eyes, their gaze steadfast
upon the wailing baby girl
before me in her bassinet.
My mind then confidently knew
that what lay there
could have never come
from briefest self-indulgence.
Still, my heart wouldn't listen—
And rightly so.
I turned and faced
a solitary window,
which framed a cold and gray
November day
that froze as well
the unrecorded moment.
Though soft upon my parted lips
came unbidden words:
“I love you, dearest child”—
knowing all that was yet to be,
for here lay an open book
in which life would write about
a young girl’s timeless, playful mirth,
but also test her brazen dreams
and tireless hopes alike.
On life’s other end,
my mother wearies
of her endless days
and puzzles
over life prolonged well past
these ninety-seven years—
asking with familiar eyes,
undimmed by age,
the reason why,
which none can answer,
and which none tries,
and silence reigns.
Then, soon enough
both memories and questions fade,
their cycles now complete.
Mark B. Peterson, Any Poem/Any Form, December 26, 2013
On a stool she sat at Greatfather's
feet,
He feeding her ice cream as a
birthday treat.
Two years old sitting up straight,
to catch each yummy spoonful,
Mouths open both of them.,
as the ice cream goes in.
Sun shining brightly in the bay
window, leaving both in a cool-
shaded silhouette .
A random picture taken,
turns a sweet gesture into
a loving memory for the two
of them.
Immortalized now forever in time,
in a large frame,
on a table beside the big green
chair ,
Only he sits in.
Copyright 2008
Anne Rutherford
Poems from The
Heart Series
This is a real picture my
grandson took ,shaded out the color,
framed it and gave to my husband.
A family treasure forever.
No one is smiling
as if the photo was taken years ago
when exposure was long
with movement held in abeyance
like dreams on the frontier
when great-great-gran was young
younger than the one she holds
in the crook of an arm,
propped on the chair that confines her life
while the faces of those posed around her
resemble a past she cannot recall.
a first sip of miso soup
exotic and warm
forging a downward path
flowing like a life force
transporting me
as I close my eyes
to a timeless moment
sharing with countless kin
through the ages
young and old
some in the prime of life
some near their final breath
the sum of their days
deep in their heart
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on March 6, 2019 for STANDARD CONTEST 190 sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 1ST
Originally posted on October 11, 2018
a soft gentle touch
feels the warm pulse of guidance
of a calloused hand
__________________________________________
*note: this is a newborn touching his father's hand.
We are but flesh and blood
spawned from a putrid drop
our end to lie in the ground
with the worm and maggot
Babes, dependent on mothers
for nourishment and love
at the close of our days
as helpless as newborns again
In the prime of our lives
we satisfy our desires as we can
for the fulness of the bloom
soon fades, the years swiftly pass
and age takes its toll in full measure
We rage at perceived injustice
call for an end to iniquity
knowing too well the futility of reform
the bloody terror of revolution...
The earth's generations come and go
One truth they do know ~
When passion subsides, quiet faith emerges
All else vanity and funeral dirges
This is a journey, a trip call it what you will
It follows the footsteps of my ancestors, and allows my thoughts too spill
Firstly let me take you back, to tell you so little of my past
Indigenous I am, from the "Stolen Generations" I did not last
This is why I must make this journey, to allow me to find the real me
To retrace the few steps I made, to rediscover what my young eyes seen
How ironic that the person I'll ride with, is the son of the then official
Whose deliberation to round up us children, the scene, locale
It's now the morn of our travel, where I look I find hard to see
The peripheral of the distant horizon, is all that really captures me
The town where I grew up so young, barely to the age of five
Perth, now bustles like a termites nest, zig zagging in busily strive
Into the bush we go, to a place where us youngsters so enjoyed
Moore River Native Settlement, which soon became children void
As I walk my arid lands, patterned in the heat of this day
I recall with every step, where us Indigenous children played
We could survive on the smallest of fruit, water we could easily find
Even the son of the then official, said that we are a superior kind
He marvelled when I spotted tracks, traces of where animals crossed
Remembering back to when I was five years old, our lands always talked
We opened up as we led our horses, introduced all those centuries ago
They opened up my lands, rivers we walked, now the white man flows
This is a journey I had to make, it's called, it's in my will
No more "Stolen Generations" no more will my culture spill
After a certain age
A situation many never see
Is now directly infront of me
As I give words to comfort
The same way that she had once done
She looks so frail and weak
But still smiles at me
And reaches for a kiss
So I lean over
As her hand slowly raises
To meet my face
I just can't believe this
As I think about it
My amazing Grandmother
Smiling since 1922
Hands
Small, large
Smooth, wrinkled
Arthritic, aged
Palms
Written April 23, 2017
ACKNOWLEDGMENT OF COUNTRY
“We acknowledge the Traditional Owners and Custodians of the lands on which we work and pay our respects to Indigenous Elders past, present and emerging. Sovereignty has never been ceded. It always was and always will be, Aboriginal land.
We recognise the past atrocities against Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples of this land and that Australia was founded on the genocide and dispossession of First Nations people. We acknowledge that colonial structures and policies remain in place today and recognise the ongoing struggles of First Nations people in dismantling those structures. The struggle to seek justice, to remember and address this nation’s past is ongoing and is a necessary requirement for individual and collective healing process.
We support the Uluru Statement from the Heart to achieve justice, recognition and respect for First Nations people and a referendum to enshrine a First Nations Voice in the Constitution. We accept the invitation contained in the Statement to walk together with Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples in a movement of the Australian people for a better future.”
“A Darker Shade of Light”
(First Nation Australia from mind of whitefella)
My people
see your people
simple ignorant
crazy greedy
black cockatoo
laughing eyes
smiling angry
all seeing
spit signature
fingers spread
on hands pointing
bones at my people
ochre powder
yellow cake
red earth bleeding
white fella
yellow belly snake
blowing out
the fires of our
stolen children
torn from our
mob, not yours
swallowed
by your
gadaidja fangs
sinking into the skin
of our land
poison
all around
greedy gubbah
when will you
understand
our nation
not your flag
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
Federal and State agencies
For nearly one hundred years
Removal of children
Many families feared
Even Church Missions
Got in on the game
The taking of children
That they had no right to claim
Reasons were varied
To why this was done
As they knock on their doors
And a point of their guns
Miscegenation
White racial purity
The take of the kids
Family obscurity
The Half-caste acts
An outright disgrace
To creates these laws
When it's not their place
Project yourself back
One hundred years
If they were your kids
Do you feel their fears
13th of February 2008
A date in time, for these children to wait
Australian Prime Minister Kevin Rudd
A formal apology, to the Stolen Generations above.
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/australia.php
Life is not about seeking fame & fortune
life is beautiful in so many other ways
life is family 5 generations strong
sharing memories & stories from beyond
passing truth & love from a special bond
When you have family who stand strong
who are there for you in your storm
you have all the ritches in the world
golden treasures in eachother
all apart of one another..
Dedicated to Tracey & Melinda..
The time has come to step aside.
It’s been a very lovely ride.
I trained my darling daughter well.
It’s she who rings the dinner bell
on holidays and lets me rest.
She aces each and every test.
Proving herself every bit as able
as I to set Thanksgiving table,
she feeds her twenty-two hungry guests
without a sign of being stressed.
So I feel needed, I surmise,
she allowed me to make the pies.
She never loses her sweet smile.
For each grandchild she stops awhile
to hug, to listen and to praise
as I did in the olden days.
Daughter, mother and grandmother,
she’s as good at one role as the other.
The day will come I know it’s true
when she will give soup ladle to
her own sweet daughter next in line.
She’ll step aside this child of mine,
to sit and rest and watch her daughter
do as her loving mother taught her.
I watch her now with love and pride
this woman whom I helped to guide
to the super mother she became.
Her daughters now are in the game.
They’re teaching the new generation
to be the next great mom sensation.
And so it has been through the years,
moms giving love and shedding tears,
each passing on her mothering lore
learned from mothers who came before.
Future Generations Pass
(Life of Martha and Gracie)
Martha started out, as a little girl, to understand her world
In an underworld, kept behind a wall forever, for her protection
The parents stuffed her in a burlap bag and beat her soundly
Kept her safe, around for now, behind the barrier enclosure
Her crime was “being bad”
Guilty at the time of birth
Before that, she was accused of being slow
Obviously she must be cursed
Not coming out of mom on schedule
The mother took care of that by pushing hard
It solved that problem, as the doctor pulled the infant out
Beat the little girl into the world, though she was upside down
By age seven she broke down the wall of silence and escaped
She tore through every barrier that stood as an impediment
One day she grew older and married Buddy from next door
Got pregnant, named her daughter Gracie
She saved the burlap bag that she was stuffed in as a baby
Gave it to her daughter who wears it proudly
Gracie gets her beatings every day as well and smiles
Stays behind a wall without complaint, which was her style
She too understands her world and wonders
Plots an escape to live her way on her own terms
To one day make a baby just like herself and have a home
Complete with walls and burlap bags that guarantee
A future where the family name will carry on the same