Best Raising Poems
Running hard into the early raising sun
A warm breeze lifts off the river
Heart and breath feeding each other
My soul sings to the morning
It is good to be alive – come join me
David Meade
11/17/2014
Live Generously
Here is to those who tiptoed out of my life
Without explaining what I did wrong
In order for me to do it better next time
Here is to those who thought they knew me
Who judged; without getting to know me
Here is to those who lied their way into my life
Assuming that my eyes would never see the truth
Here is to those I loved and lost
Who taught me unconditional love
In spite of the challenges it brings
Here is to those I treasure
That took the time to see the cracks
That looked beyond the mistakes, beyond the flaws
Who still said 'you are worth it'
In our lives we grow with people or we grow apart
It doesn't mean that you failed in a relationship
It means that you needed that person in that particular space
On this journey you meet people and you let go of people
Then you get those that give you reasons to want to hold on
Treasure the experiences
Remember the lessons
Never allow it to steal the memories you can create today
So I am lifting a glass to those I had to let go
And to those that gave me reasons to hold on
Thank you for the inspiration
Thank you for dwelling in my space
©134229042015
A morn's sun raised the blinds
As sunlight pinked the clouds
Its colors fell across
My lap, tinting my words
Sublime, pen and ink tried
To contain sentiment
As they spilled blue
The blinds dissipate
As words release truth
High the sun rises
Its light controls pen
Slower the pen
Then pauses, waits
As the day wears
Colors painted
Artist tool
A palette
As sun sets
Blinds close
Darkness
Shades
Inspired by a stanza written by Robert Frost:
The Death Of The Hired Man
"Part of a moon was falling down the west,
Dragging the whole sky with it to the hills.
Its light pored softly in her lap. She saw it
And spread her apron to it. She put out her hand"
Just part of it ...What struck me was "moon was falling down the west"
A tempest rages deep within
A storm brews in my soul
Outside conflict seeping in
And stirring in my bowl
So many things that I expect
And never seem to gain
I try to stand back and reflect
But I'm clouded by the pain
A simple task that I request
Be done when I get home
Is crumpled up and trampled on
Then tossed before my throne
To me it's like a mockery
I'm talking to the wall
Why is it so hard to do
The things I ask you all
An hour a day is all you need
To get these things in line
An hour a day then you can play
And everything is fine
Cold and tired, I come home late
And not a thing has moved
No-one raised a finger here
To see if I'd approve
Why is it so much to ask
For help along the way
I know that all inside this house
Can hear the words I say
When e're I leave before the dawn
To toil in the sun
I hope that this might be the day
When all the chores are done
Maybe just an hour more
Is all the time they need
I give it then I come back home
To find they paid no heed
A tempest rages deep within
The confines of my soul
Thank God I have the poetry
To keep me in control
Rockman
Even though those days have passed, I still find that writing is the best way to vent
feelings.
It took a long time, but they finally grew up
Each...with individual diversions...Ha!
Five roads...five conclusions, (yet, but not)
“Children are a gift from God”, unwrapped at birth
Coercing us to change...not an option
I’ve become a doctor, judge, nutritionist,
speech therapist, teacher, and chauffeur...
All without license
In the final analysis of ‘raising’ children
Could it possibly be said...
I’ve finally grown up?
apple falls near tree --
children reflect their parents
values and morals
Benjamin Franklin, to prove lightning held electricity,
Flew a kite in a storm; attached to the kite cord was a key.
Though some thought this dangerous experiment was a bit odd,
Franklin sparked more inquiries and invented the lightning rod!
1/25/19
Velvet soft, like rose petals, these thoughts
Free falling like rain drops unto the thirsty earth
Rivulets break cobwebs washing dust prints away
Seeping through a wall of steel formed by time
Will they raise the dead; roll the stone away?
~*~
Adam, take the dust and
blow into tomorrow's winter world
the intruding consciousness
is evolving, embroiling a vainity of values,
who are we now, why this
language of redemption ?
the truth hurts once we
were exhiled from God's perfect garden,
the roads behind are
cold and alone, its you and me against the wind,
Adam, how will we survive
the hail, and 40 days of raging rain ?
In every emerging
evening I see a new face when I close my eyes
my intuitions are crystal
clear, Adam
I can feel the needing
agony of anticipation from my womb,
these shoes are worn out
from this journey, lets build
I will praise the
callouses of your hands once the walls reach heaven,
lets ride, make new
native noise, simply splashing love
lets harvest the future
drink from the wealth of cheap wine,
making choices knowing right - to wrong
Now that we are free, we
can enjoy the goodness before it fades,
the voices inside are
called, they can befit the beast
God intended us to be angels, alienating us away
lets grow upward,
testing the sound of silence, I want to eliminate the echoes,
with the sounds of laughter and tears,
I'm willing to take a greater
risk of falling,
hurry Adam, put a child
in my arms, and soothe the agony of absence,
its time to grow and generate
the human race,
this is my new chapter, unfolding
the Continuing Saga
By Poet - Eve
Eve, this land is already populated,
peopled by persons who seem like us,
although diffetent too, like seasons in soul,
divergent in their dreams for dynasty,
they have dialects from a depth of Dawn
that awoke long before we arrived to thrive here,
customs peculiar as shapes to stones,
Father never spoke of these klans
who strive to survive outside the mercy of His gaurded garden,
competitive as clouds in a shrunken sky,
I met a merchant, a servant to trade,
he told of banners and blood, laws and legacies
cultures savage and cities of crime,
gleamed from telling stories of wealth and wonder,
said they worship their Gods more ways than gold folds,
consider what we have encountered Luv,
will our children slay or be slain, war or work
love or get lost in conquest,
you, as a Woman of God's glorious gambit
have a harvest of futurity's face in the balance,
will you deliver the destiny of our union into this drama...
By Poet - Adam/J.A.B.
Barn Raising
Dr. James E. Martin
©November, 2013
The barn was quickly raised.
The crowd was simply amazed.
They later were confused,
No one was amused,
As the barn was speedily razed.
A hirsute young lady named Tash
Decided to do something rash
She shaved off her stubble
Oh boy she’s in trouble –
Tash now sports a beard and moustache
22nd June 2016
Proud I am children, proud for sure, proud of day and proud of night
I can finally turn the key in my own door
No latent echoes filled with omnious warnings
Measuring out my freedom in abbreviated noons
And uncoiling mornings with elastic circuit of the sun
I can plant my own ten acres of banana more
Beach my own canoe on the shore
And will cut twenty more yards of sugarcane
If they pay me better now to buy a proper loaf
I come this midnight dividing present and past
Dividing hope from despair and brief uncertainty
About the cloud's timing of the rain.
I come to see my own black sorrows rolled back
To taste the ripe green of land and labour
And peace of sovereign gold
I come for me, and I come for Nanny on the mountain
Looking down, and for Bogle's marching done
I come for brother Sam fired dream of freedom
Do you hear their great spirit chanting us
Garvey on the podium after the black, green and gold
Have taken its place proudly amongst the nations of the world
I hear him thunder "rise ye mighty race, rise"
And feel the lightning of the heroes voice
Those all past, and those to come
This is a great moment in the building of a nation
A great berth of ship before the salt waves lick
The sturdy bow, O ye valiant seamen, no cringeing now
No shackled hopes, no tethered dreams, our coffled hearts
Shall be only what reminds of the bitter voyage past
My soul is breathing like the abeng tonight
Atop its pole the flag of Jamaica in full flight.
A bald-headed man from Jamaica
Attempted to scale a sky-scraper
From his hospital bed
He was heard to have said
‘I was seeking a hair-raising caper!
Bite Size Poem No.42 Poetry Contest
Sponsor :Line Gautier
Raising Bread
When I was a little boy things were complicated
Let me start again
Yesterday I turned 7 and I don’t know how to read or write
I don’t know words and I don’t know letters
(Don’t ask what I’m doing here. Just have faith.)
My parents think I’m slow and not too bright
We are very poor and can’t afford no schooling
But they gave me a bible and made me make my first Communion
(That’s a Catholic thing involving a thin disc of bread called a holy host or holy communion, to be consumed.)
I use the bible for a pillow
Someone told me a fragment of a story from the holy book
I can’t remember anything…. but
This is my favorite part
Something about our Lord and Savior who took bakers from their shops
He made them bake the bread, morning noon and night on mountain tops
And on the third day, He Himself, did the raising of the bread
When I’m in church I’m still confused.
The communion wafer disc of bread is flatter than lasagna
When I die I’m taking a loaf of bread with me to heaven
To learn about the mysteries of faith and nature
I’ll show the loaf to our Lord and Savior for an explanation
About what He said
About the raising of the bread