Best Love Family Poems
I travel back to a nascent time,
when bairn girl sojourner twins arrived.
Born from their earth mother’s womb,
embodied by Mother Nature’s bosom.
Goddesses embraced by the Universe.
Dualism beyond the physical world
Their essence of silvery stars,
sends love’s chemical reactions.
Their beatific smiles so warm and inviting,
and magical thinking inspires all.
Illuminating pure energy that soars from your light,
spreads wildly around, igniting the night.
The delightful bond inside you both, heaven's call.
Qualities, talent, and intuition divine,
Their existence, always sunshine.
Inseparable even when miles apart
They're always in each other’s hearts.
You’re always here in mine.
Time came when she could no longer afford her pretty makeup.
No money for saloon, she couldn’t imagine the kind of life she had given up.
And the child she gave birth to wasn’t brown skinned
So her and Mr. Peter could no longer put up.
She was working hard trying to convince him that she was a good wife.
But Mr Peter got Haniphah who was prettier and thought would change his life.
Mama Nisha was no longer the pretty angel but just a housewife.
This is a story of a single mother's life.
She is a warrior.
She has got the courage.
She is no stranger to life.
She seeks no new face.
She doesn't need your sympathy.
She knows she is a good mother.
She moves out and finds a bedsitter for her and her little girl Nisha.
She is a soldier with a baby as a uniform in the battle field of life.
All night long she sings a song, “Tulo Tulo kwata Nisha”.
She moves on with her life.
With a smile on her face like she's got no regrets from yesterday.
She needs a man.
But the one she has got is out there having fun with another woman.
So she decides to take her time.
Because she doesn’t want to get another who is just like the other.
Her feet have walked on broken glass.
And won’t stop just for another heartbreak.
Mama Nisha is a village woman.
All she knew was to respect her man.
But then he left her, he left with Haniphah.
Now she knows more, she knows her worth.
She won’t wait for a loser or settle for less.
She knows she needs a real man.
One who won't love her for her makeup.
But rather love her for her beautiful smile and the makeup on her brains.
She knows she has got a daughter to raise.
She has got bills to pay.
And to Nisha, she is the mother and the father.
Every morning, she puts Nisha on her back.
As she out to face the world.
She needs to hustle so they can eat.
Bills are high let alone the cost of living is high.
Taking baby steps to change her life.
She knows she will reach no turn back.
She doesn’t pray for luck.
She only prays she never gets stuck.
Mama Nisha is a single Mother.
"There is no love like a mother's love"
Your wise eyes glistened with cataracts, showing me the hazy Indian sky
The wrinkles on your face, the lines by your eyes, showed me the joys of the hills and caverns of the lands
The raised veins on your hands, bumpy yet smooth, acts like the Ganges, a life supply for you and many
The graying in your hair, shows me the struggles and triumphs, the marriages, the children,
The arthritis you have showed me the pain and determination, the years of work, the labor,
The gentle touch from your rough hands, show me your motherhood, your warmth, your love
The words you spoke, your native tongue, acted as the voice of a generation of women, a voice that’s been heard for years, but only sometimes appreciated
Your loss of hearing showed me the loudness of actions, the loudness of your people, the stories, the lessons you have heard over the years
The loss of memories for you, only showed the tremendous amount you lived, you saw, and felt
Your old passions and anger shined w the ferocity of the fiery red Indian sun
Your dry and cracked hands, showed me the deserts of Rajasthan
Your old gold, your wedding ring, your bangles, show me the beauty of our country, the traditions, that even after the years of wear, we still have value
Your old stories of your family show me the interconnectedness of us all, one large tree, supported by your roots
“Mother India, Mother India,” I call into the void,
Wishing you still were near to bring me back home
The wonders you have seen, the pain you have felt, the revolution and wars you have lived
Mother India was you
A woman older than the world, wiser than philosophers, more beautiful than the Taj
As one Mother leaves, the next generation takes her place,
Yet we never forget our ancestors
The ones who fought, clawed, and struggled for us
The ones who sacrificed their lives for us
You truly loved me
This much I know
You were a mother and grandmother
In more ways than one
You were my grandmother, but you were Mother India
You taught me to love my culture and you were my reason for going back to India
Your time had come and your daughters will take your place.
You were Mother India, I was Daughter India
My world is different from yours,
but the same values and lessons I hold
I miss you
But I know i have the same passions, the same strength, the same love running through my veins
Where were you so long ago?
All those eons before a tot.
In some distant god’s château?
No. Not there. You were not.
On a shelf of surplus stock,
A soul dressed up in heavens frock.
Perhaps a spirit not yet wrought,
No. Not there. You were not.
Then began your book of life,
It’s made in volumes three.
The past, the present,
And the yet to be.
Will you write only pleasant,
As you pen volume present?
Avoiding matters to disavow,
Parting life’s waves by your prow.
Crashing the crest before the break,
Leaving burst bubbles in your wake.
What great act earns its worth,
And a lasting mark upon the earth?
Is that mark worth the grind,
Should your labor be realigned?
The train of life rolls on rails of time,
And travel stops at the end of the line.
When that ending word is writ,
The final one that you submit.
When there is no more yet-to-be,
You close the cover on volume three.
The tome is closed. Where do you go?
To the place you were taught?
To some distant god’s château?
No. Not there. You are not.
Your Book of Life, a mere spark,
Bounded by bookends of eternal dark.
Where were you so long ago?
All those eons before a tot.
In some distant god’s château?
No. Not there. You were not.
On a shelf of surplus stock,
A soul dressed up in heavenly frock.
Perhaps a spirit not yet wrought,
No. Not there. You were not.
Then began your book of life,
It’s made in volumes three.
The past, the present,
And the yet to be.
Will you write only pleasant,
As you pen volume present?
Avoiding matters to disavow,
Parting life’s waves by your prow.
Crashing the crest before the break,
Leaving burst bubbles in your wake.
What great act earns its worth,
And a lasting mark upon the earth?
Is that mark worth the grind,
Should your labor be realigned?
The train of life rolls on rails of time,
And travel stops at the end of the line.
When that ending word is writ,
The final one that you submit.
When there is no more yet-to-be,
You close the cover on volume three.
The tome is closed. Where do you go?
To the place you were taught?
To some distant god’s château?
No. Not there. You are not.
Your Book of Life, a mere spark,
Bounded by bookends of eternal dark.
Heart & Soul
What a wonderful thing to behold!
Have you ever seen one quite so cute?
Never ever wanna let you go..
dressed in a brand new birthday suit.
How nicely you plucked heart strings..
that day you flew into life,
on two sun-kissed shining wings.
All your charms,
sent my heart straight to Mars,
the day you fell asleep..
right here in my arms..
Oh Heart & Soul..
Not yet even one day old,
left me feelin' ten feet tall..
so precious a tale be told..
pink bottom and all!
Went to shop for ribbons and bows,
said the angels.. we don't have any of those..
how 'bout ten fingers and toes?
The day you took my heart & soul,
was oh so nice, yes all sugar and spice,
so glad your mom brought you home..
would a kept you at twice the price.
Under lightning streaked flashing glow..
the night a duet sought to become a sweet trio.
Please tell your mom she's still the best,
no better nine month gift was I ever blessed.
So they think you are old and shouldn't live alone,
maybe you're too frail to be left on your own
Can't manage your own money or live in your own home,
apprehensive you give up and take up the tossed bone
So many years spent taking care of them,
it's your turn they'll tell you and move you right in
Deep inside you hope to turn back the time,
your life's work was them sure it will be just fine
Your full of anticipation life is going to be easier now
Soon feeling like a relic lifted up and knocked down
You have so many stories memories of days passed,
feel like every story told could soon be your last
They have no time to listen they heard it all before,
tell you they'll talk later as they rush through the door
Feeling like a burden wondering what to do,
no one seems to care about the trials you've been through
To them, you're just repeating things already heard,
but if they'd stop to listen your words are not absurd
Everyone keeps talking about the day you will die,
and who gets what & how your property will divide
Not wanting to wait they reach out with dirty hands,
to take what's in reach they can't wait for the end
You start to feel decrepit and feel your life's a sin,
its a bad situation that no one wins in the end
You find yourself weaker something isn't right,
don't talk to old friends feeling like a fright
Every day grows longer you can't wait for the night,
no one even gets it it's such a dismal plight
You sleep and sleep and sleep to escape reality,
your youth is long faded along with vitality
Closing your mind eye reaching for your partner's hand,
but alone in your bed, this was not the master plan
The dream realm is all you see through the haze,
you lift your eyes up & meet your lost love's gaze
But please don't go too soon to that alternate reality,
there are those that still need to hear the words you speak
Stop dwelling on real or perceived infirmities
or without warning, it will drain your remaining vitality
When you think of death or of the dying that they speak,
hold your head up high and breathe life into the scene
Change your attitude don't die it's not a dream
the younger generation you still need to lead
Hold onto your life and sow a precious seed,
life is worth living don't lose it in a dream
she enters the room gracefully
belying the heartache inside
her tale of loss floats through the air
like a windblown kite
a mother, child, and death
reduced to silhouettes
her vision rips a hole
where there should be love
from this pulpit
with its congregation of one
Push and shove
Punch and hit
Throwing a bad violent fit
Never knowing what you did
Because the liquor left it hid
Remembering is hard to do
When it takes control of you
You try and stop with group support
But one sip and you abort
All the senses telling you
This is a bad thing to do
Having fun with all your friends
Swigging every drink they send
With each one you can’t hold back
You start to hit and start to smack
A child who don’t understand
Why other daddy’s use their hands
To hold and love their little ones
But she has to hide and run
So afraid and scared to death
With every hit she holds her breath
Praying for her life each time
He does this violent act of crime
by Michael J Falotico
Family is something I lost for a period of time..
I lost track what was important and what was mine..
On the stairs of life I've certainly have missed a few..
I laid in a bed of old rather then new..
No light from the sky or voices in my head were
needed to show me a course that I was led..
Just Family and the most simple act of caring and love
is all it took to open my eyes and see above..
I'm there crutch when life is hard and their in need..
And they are my crutch when I'm down and can't be freed..
With both crutches we walk together tall and strong..
Because without Family it's just music with no song..
inspired by Linda The SweetHeart
of Poetry Soup
He was moving out to be on his own.
She was filled with happiness…and dread
“Drive safe…don’t forget to call me when you get there…
and remember…I love you…she said.
“Mom!” he said rolling his eyes, then smiling facetiously,
“I wonder in all the years I’ve lived here…
how many times have you said I love you to me.”
Which immediately started her thinking as her heart was beginning to bleed
“How many times have I said I love you?” she whispered.
“How many times indeed.”
“How many times have I held you in my arms?
How many times have I seen you laugh, seen you cry?
How many times have I read you a story or sang you a lullaby?”
“How many sandwiches have I made for you?
How many cookies or pies or ice cream?
How many lunches have I packed you over the years
How many times have I watched as you dream?”
“How many times have I worried about you?
How many solutions to your problems did I seek?
How many times have I bandaged your knees?
How many tears have I wiped from your cheeks?”
“In all of the times I’ve hugged you hello,”
She said as a tear fell from her eye,
“I never dreamed this day would come
the first time I’d be hugging goodbye.”
“So no matter how many times we say goodbye
each time for me is going to be rough
and no matter how many times I’ve told you I love you
one more time is never enough.”
FOUR YEARS, STILL STANDING
Four years bleeding, four years bruised,
Four years fighting, four years used.
Carried the weight till my back near broke,
Choked on silence, swallowed the smoke.
Four years of bills and sleepless nights,
Four years swinging at shadows and lies.
Loved and lost, trust turned thin,
Hiding the chaos I’m drowning in.
Four years scraping, hand to mouth,
Hope ran dry, compassion went south.
Friends fell off, love went cold,
Heart grew heavy, soul grew old.
I’ve been broke in ways that cash can’t show,
Held my tongue when I should’ve said “no.”
Smiled for my kids when I felt like dirt,
Carried their laughter to mask my hurt.
Four years clawing through grit and glass,
Watching the good days fade too fast.
But I kept walking, through storm and flame —
Bent but breathing, still in the game.
If pain’s a test, I’ve passed in blood,
Built from bone and fire and mud.
They thought I’d quit, thought I’d stay down —
But my scars are medals, my battle crown.
Four years wrecked me, left me raw —
But I’m still standing, ready for more.
The fight’s not done, the war’s not through —
I’ve bled for four years… I’ll bleed for two.
Every scar is a map of the war I survived,
proof I’m still breathing where others have died.
At my grandfathers wake in Mississippi the bereaved spoke in muffled tones.
Some dwelled on the fact he foiled a few family members’ extra curricular relationships.
Grandpa just didn’t cotton to that type of behavior.
The family patriarch was a good man and no one could deny that.
In the south it was customary for a family member to stay with the remains overnight.
I was chosen since my grandfather vested a great deal of his precious time to raise me.
I spent my younger days next to grandpa totally absorbed by his stories and wisdom.
Time flew by but my moving north and starting school changed everything.
I rarely saw grandpa thereafter, except in my heart.
This time would be good for us, alone and together once again.
Around 3am, I was sitting on the edge of my chair intently focused on grandpa.
Suddenly, I noticed movement in the silk draped over his open casket.
This gave me great pause and concern.
Was he really dead or was he breathing and trying to speak to me?
Slipping ever so quietly to the casket, I stared at his face covered by the veil.
Unexpectedly, a mouse bolted from under his pillow and out the backside of the casket.
I was mortified!
A mouse was invoking ashes to ashes, dust to dust on grandpa’s remains.
When the first shovel of dirt hit his casket, there wasn’t any mouse along for the ride.
I can personally guarantee that.
Draped, Slipping, Pause, Edge, Muffled, Foil, Wake, Deny, Dwell, Pillow.
This narrative is true and I’ve rarely told the story in 50 years.
Learning to let go
I learned patience too early
Forgot I’m not taken granted I thought
I held my breath, so not to breath for life
I held so close to broken pieces, forged together.
You never noticed I was before you
As if I held a mirror before you morning,
Invincible to even think, I did not exist
Cared not what I was to say, but felt pity.
What time wasted, but no worry it has passed
For who has even lived for and the past?
But memories of old, I don’t know about the future
Who is to hope for what is in the past, instead of-
Moving on like you never knew existence of me.
Telling the truth is the only lie I ever told you
I like you was not enough, loving well mostly used,
Perfect, well you already know, beautiful as told
Always, a puzzle I can’t fit together
You complete me would be expecting a question
You brighten me with your eyes, I’m sin free
Making me smile, for mind changes looking at you
Like apartheid written in my eyes, I even forgot
And you just can’t seem to unplug me for a new one
Question not yourself I will forget you, if you want
Don’t imagine me, you never even thought of me. By: Karen Mathe
Me my kids and my wife
All a very special part of my life
Roger who is 12 years old
I hope he achieve his every goal
Alisha who is 15 years old precious and sweet
Larry as Fry talks and raps to every girl that he meet
Shannon is having our granddaughter is very smart in school
Connie who is 19 years old will soon be graduating
Then our entire family will be celebrating
Kisha who's 23 the oldest
Thinks she's the boldest
Myra my lovely wife is 42
Myself James to my family I love all of you
Together we enjoy fishing,bowling going out to eat
All of us keep our hair done or cut and dress very neat
The Whisper of Love
The mild spring wind whispered: I love you and stroked
my face… but then it clouded over the wind hoarsely
shouted: I love you. I fled indoors but it howled nonstop
by the French window: I love you, and I held my hands
against ears as not hear.
Angrily I hollered back: go away I never cared for you,
your obsessive love is too much to bear, strangling me.
But I tell not truth, sweet Marilyn, I love you more now
than before; the wind became a mild zephyr and said:
I know, I know my darling.
The almond tree said: I thought it was me you loved,
my flowers you admire. But you are deflowered now.
I said. This is the rudest thing I ever heard said the oak
and shook it crown so sadly that a crow family fell out.
and cawed crossly at me.
Don´t you get I said I love you all you´re nature the air
that I breathe the food I eat and the grass I walk on.
But the olive tree spoilt my words by pretentiously
saying: one, who loves all, loves no one, and eastward
the crow family flew.