Best Lifesister Poems
I Nephthys
Sister of Isis:
Energy of birth and guidance of growth,
guiding life to live and the people praise her.
Her strength so wide, it's bright, making her smile visible.
I Nephthys
Always her shadow cast by her light;
I am the moon and she is the sun.
The people's adoration strengthens her strife
and their cries and pleas to me, weakens my heart.
I am invisible
Just a watcher of children and a care taker of ages.
My presence not be known, till their time has been interrupted
or their string has been sowed to long.
My sister receives the tears of joy when a child comes to this earth.
I receive the tears of sadness and hate when I cradle their womb away.
I stick to those that mourn for their husband to wars long past
and hover around the withering sick in their beds.
I guide the fearful souls to their penance or grace,
But I may not comfort them to which they'll be placed.
I and my sister
I am the night and she is the day...
And though our works are different,
we are both needed, for we make a circle;
a cycle for this race.
But...
How I wonder of a smiling face.
That plays along the light touched meadows
and frolics on a golden pace.
But I will not see such images, for If I am there,
My work must be in place.
Now In a house, a husband cries,
for his wife is laying ill.
I sit beside her bed and watch her health.
No, her time will be hers still.
I leave this room and then the wife decides to wake,
the husband cries and then he prays:
Thank you Nephthys for letting my love re-awake.
A hug was done, a kiss stayed strong and together they were made.
I watched so long, that I could not help to watch some more and stayed.
Love
Is so wondrous, I thought and a smile had spread on my face.
The night is going and the day is coming,
and my sister will be taking her watch.
And still smiling to myself, a thought gained my health;
without the night, the day would be lost...
While I sat at a sofa
In the living room
I looked everywhere
No one was there
My parents sleeping, my sister sick
And I am waiting for the bus
Suddenly the made called for me:
The bus louzana
So I carried my stuff and off I went
Sitting in the bus…
My sister and I not looking
At each other
My shoulders, back and arms paining me like hell
I await my death that is in my mind everyday
While I spoke to lina & she so stubbornly acted
I tried to act grown- fully
I tried to let down my temper
And so I thought and regretted
I didn’t do a thing to say
I did not hurt a soul to cry
Then I got sad and very mad
I wish and so I wished
If he will ever talk to me again
Its been three weeks
And there was not even one reply
And so I looked and I thought
I tried to change the topic
But it remain grabbing my mind’s attention
Oh I humph why, why and why?
Where did my rising sun go ?
Where did my angel of love fly?
I am left alone,
Not to be loved…
Not to be taken…
As a child, I laid my head down.
I bowed upon your feet.
You love me then, the first 2 years
of life I had in me.
Your belly grew, you grew with excitement.
I was happy to finally be the big sister.
Nine months had past, a pink bundle in your arms, a sister within it.
You cared for her, and showed her love.
You bought her things she desired.
I was left alone, I cared for myself.
I grew to be a lonesome child.
At 6 years of age, my sister at 4,
my baby brother was brought home, 3 months early.
At 4 and a newborn child, they were her world and excitement.
While at 6, I had meant nothing.
Through the years I grew up.
A beautiful teenage child.
Seeking the attention I want.
And the love I desire.
I am no longer a beautiful child,
but a lonesome teenager I am.
She said that she read my poems,
And most she liked very much;
Some of them left her laughing,
And some, her heart, they touched.
She sent me several emails
Confessing she was all alone,
And asked me if I would consider
Writing to her a new love poem.
Now I am a married man,
And remain very happily so,
But I love a poetic challenge
And decided to give it a go.
I thought about it for several days;
Rhymed a faux love in many ways;
A piece that I, myself, admired;
Passionately penning carnal desires.
I sent her the love poem secretly,
Not sharing it with my wife;
Although no feelings were attached,
It’s something she might not like.
My email was returned on the next day
With just a short reply;
“I hate to inform you, she passed away,
My beautiful sister has died.”
“I know you are a stranger she met,
Through a poetry site,
She was hoping a love poem she might get,
Before dying of cancer last night.”
“I took the liberty to read your prose
As she took in her last breath;
I thank you, stranger, for putting a smile
On my sister in her time of death.”
And now, that poem means more to me
Than any other I have penned;
To think that I brought happiness
To a stranger at her end.