Best Sons Poems
Unequally yoked didn't deny
common grace in an atheistic womb.
Half of the prayers were enough for him.
Blessed in health and time,
but reckless in his early years.
Under other tapestries laid all those fine linens of Egypt.
In each embrace, I placed a wager on just how slow your anger.
The hypocrite damns their own house.
Demons perched on the edge of puberty,
filled my son's eyes hopeless and left his rare word—flat.
Paper towels the papyrus of superficial coping
lines of scabs formed sleeves of braille
as the wages of sin reached for my son's throat mocking
two inpatient stays hanging in a precarious chemical salvation.
Another orphan from faith and repentance disobeyed,
juxtaposed with Job who lost ten.
Fear cultivated the prayers that grew
the humility that put your Son on the Cross,
and wouldn't gamble with mine.
Your general call turned effectual
A new volition has moved my son to gather
with those that feed the hunger
from the table of the Word.
When the hand of Grace shakes the elect
from their own slumber
in The Storm on the Sea of Galilee.
Taken back from Rembrandt's thieves,
no longer hidden away.
Beyond Jonah's anger that killed the vine,
and desecrated memories of seized temples
roam those ghosts of the giants of Lebanon.
Every idle word winnows the threshing floor
forever the wheat from the tare.
The solace that the chosen
are given in this life's labor
under The Cross that the world must hate,
divine regeneration gives the measures
of reverence and gratitude
for every thorn on this side,
and your Heaven full of treasures.
If you can trust yourself
when all men doubt you
If you can bare to hear the truth
twisted by fate
to make a trap for fools
If you can see all the things
u gave your life to, broken
Yet pick them all up and rebuilt them
If you can walk with kings
and not lose your common core
And still keep your virtue
When neither Foes and Loving friends
can either hurt you
If all men count with you
But none too much
If you can feel the Unforgiven trysts
And still walk the path of vigor
In this world and everything in it
You'll be a man
My son.
(These would include the younger brothers of Wounded Thunder,
the character I made up in my previously posted poem).
These were sons of Thunder Storm and “Flower,”
from Wounded Thunder down to Thunder Bolt.
“Bolt” was fast; the touchy one was “Shower.”
And Thunder Struck was somewhat of a dolt.
The cute one pampered by fair Prairie Flower
well-deserved his name of Thunder Squall,
and like another brother Thunder Shower,
got teased, but even louder did he bawl!
Both “Squall” and “Shower” vexed their brother “Cloud,”
for Thunder Cloud by moodiness was led
and always scowled at them for crying out loud!
Great Thunder Head filled everyone with dread,
but the wild son who proved the biggest sap
came home infected. That was Thunder Clap!
I thought to write of butterflies.
Also of birds, their lovely song.
but then I came to realize
poems about them are miles long.
I'll write at last
of seasons past.
I watched a bird, in air, snag flies
and began writing a new song
of catcher's mitt and time that lies.
I thought time lasts, but I was wrong.
Sons will age, too
Time thought I knew.
May 30, 2022
for Posie Poem Contest
by Emile Pinet
howmanysyllables.com=888844, 888844
FIFTH PLACE
I have two sons
Both tall, blonde and handsome
With personalities different as night and day
Noah’s intellect is scary
Even as a small child he could figure out
Not only how things work but why they work
I smile and nod a lot like I have a clue
His humor! The right word at exactly the right time
It’s killer
My younger son is Josh
His heart is as deep and wide as the ocean
He’s a football jock. He enjoys pushing himself
Harder and longer just for fun.
Nothing in this world will be out of his reach
Due to his sheer determination
I have two very special friends
That can be described as pure love
My love for them is deep and powerful
No matter the problem, no matter the danger
I’ll always be there for them
But if I had to choose to save them
With the lives of one of my sons
No matter how much I love them
The task could not be done
So I ask you now my Father
For we so desperately wicked
How did you send your Son
To pay the price of our selfish sins
I don’t understand it
I will never understand
How much is your love for us all
Lonely shuttered days
as Covid slammed at our souls
To fill the long day
I tried writing of my sons
how they fill my heart with love
I try not to think about it, my friend.
It's so horrible, and yet,
I'm on beer ten, and I won't see you again -
So, I'll tell you a secret.
No, it's not what happened in Vietnam.
I still see it in stop-action -
If you measured it in inches and seconds,
That moment was a fraction.
A youth soccer game, my dad in the crowd,
It was nineteen sixty-two
When we lost the championship game
As I let the winning goal go through.
As a boy, I never hurt anyone,
Was a friend when needed.
I always helped my mother with her chores.
Mom and Dad, I heeded.
I studied hard, did all my homework,
Followed every rule.
Upon college graduation, I was rewarded,
Accepted to med school.
Today, I am a successful surgeon
Using scalpels and knives.
I make so many people feel better -
Sometimes, I even save lives.
Yet, deep down, I don't have what it takes.
I let everybody down.
What you see before you is a failure.
I should be buried in the ground.
I see it as we speak. My dad was in the crowd.
It was nineteen sixty-two.
We lost the championship game.
I let the winning goal go through.
You see, there's nothing now that I can do -
But wait, I have a little son.
He plays goalie on his youth soccer team,
A great boy who likes to have fun.
When the rival striker takes his final shot,
There's one thing my son won't do.
Well, I hope he doesn't, no, he better not,
Let the winning goal go through.
I have three sons
Past, present, and future
A happy family
Have confidence that you can be
the best in all you’ll do, my son.
Don’t go out thinking mediocrity
or that’s what you’ll become.
And don’t assume your work is done.
and don’t assume you have it made;
there’s always someone climbing rungs
who can make a better grade.
And never dare an idle hand,
and never chance an idle mind;
change you need to understand
or you will be left far behind.
Don’t break the rules until you’ve followed,
don’t make up rules you can’t abide;
never think your skills are hallowed
and don’t reject advice for pride.
Don’t toe a line you cannot see,
don’t push unless you can be shoved;
don’t cower from adversity
just wrap yourself in an armor of love.
There are no sons of Eden
only descendants of The Fruit.
They do their best with what they can
as Able still lies blue.
Long cast out of Paradise
they till the worldly soil
and blame the Lord for all their pains
and all their sinful toil.
Some give thanks for what they've sewn,
conceited, humble-proud,
thinking they're the chosen ones
as Hell still overcrowds.
The Lord made do with what Cain left.
(beggars can't be choosers).
With sword held high they judge by The Fruit
that made each one a loser.
I look at you and I feel intense love.
A love so indefinite that it chokes me from within.
You are mine, I made you.
Finally, something good came from me.
I never understood what love really was, until I had you.
We have been coaxed by honeyed words,
Deranged by colonized thoughts, my sons.
Our sinews have furnished their bans
While we are submerged in poverty’s fangs.
You hold to each others’ throat
Nourished with daggers from intruders’ moats.
Is this how you want My bloodline to end?
Sons Of Liberty
Samuel Adams was a most wanted man
In pre American tyrannical land
In insane taxes the colonies drown
They were indentured servants to the crown
The Redcoat aggression showed no remorse
Brotherhood was formed to fight back with force
Chorus
Hail, hail, the Sons Of Liberty
Hail, hail, revolution without impunity
Hail, hail, The Sons Of Liberty
Hail, hail show no amiability
Smuggling wine to the secret of the coin
Enmity burned over the Boston massacre
drawn to the resistance, patriots would join
Boston Tea party struck back at the master
Hancock and Revere, they took to the gun
The Sons fought fearlessly at Lexington
Chorus
Would secretly meet at the liberty tree
fabric they torn,new nation is born
They set the stage to the road to be free
fiery inferno, for Hutchinson foe
patriot or terrorist introspective
hero's who attain patriotic objective
chorus(2)
My flesh and blood
refused to follow me
refused the notion of the flood
fought for right, not for me
Duty served
country proud
Now we two sons confess
we have transitioned to the dress
Father hid all the witnesses
to the truth of his two creations
from the watchtower he decried
the beauty, compassion and love
all he derides
I am blessed to have two wonderful sons that are very good to me
To say I am proud of them both is most definitely,
My eldest son is very independent
And my younger son is very driven to commitment,
They are both very Unique in their own ways
I am so lucky to have them both everyday,
Their futures are both very bright
And just knowing that I sleep very good at night.
Written By: Unique Poetry 2015