Shattered besides her
He sat beside her crib,
trying hard not to break down,
trembling like foliage in a whirlwind.
His hands cradled his head,
heavy with tears cascading like a spring.
Desperately, he willed her to stay awake,
fearing that if her eyes closed,
she might be taken away from him.
She was his world,
his beacon of hope,
his anchor amidst a raging tempest.
He could not forgive God.
"Why play dice with my daughter’s life?"
he murmured into the vast void.
"Take me instead,"
his prayer consumed by silence,
as the heavens remained quiet,
as they always are.
When her breath stalled,
and the hospital machines screamed
darkness rose like a tide and devoured him.
The delicate thread tethering his hope snapped,
and the world crumbled around him,
he died the same day
his spirit shattering alongside hers.
On the first day of Christmas
'twas a silent night 'neath yonder star
(while shepherds watched their flocks)
when three Wise Men traversed afar
to view a new-born child
as in a fairy tale storybook fable
(away in a manger)
ensconced in a stable
all the while bearing gifts
yet although a total stranger
they did leave him their presents
under the tree where they belong
(there in Bethlehem)
but before departing they sang this song...
'Happy birthday to you
happy birthday to you
happy birthday dear Jesus
happy birthday to you'
As she lays tucked in her white crib,
she hugs her brown monkey.
Other animals fill her crib,
but she chooses the brown monkey.
Why one may ask?
even as a baby she has a choice to make.
As the years go by she wants her brown monkey,
for love and peace no other animal will do.
The years pass by as she grows up,
with every move her brown monkey will follow.
Now grown,
she looks at this bedraggled stuffed animal.
Her heart is filled with love for her brown monkey,
he was much more than a soft toy.
I think his iris is timid in sight,
Find him his cig, its light.
Its lit tip is in its crib,
I did right to fight with his timid skin in sight.
Sight this lid, I dig, I did.
His nick is with him in his crib,
I hit his crib with him with light.
It is in rid if its rig, I didn’t dig, I didn’t.
Light is sick.
Whip is sick.
Nick is light.
His is right.
I’m in with his right,
With its light in his crib.
Big, big, big hits is right by light.
Lid, lid, lid,
I’m with this crib.
There once was Glenda with slippers to share.
Dorothy liked better Prada devil’s pair.
She ducked behind Oz’s curtain
To do what is uncertain,
But the Lion put a crib in his lair.
My Fair Lady Lidja--disquiet--sigh
Limit thine opinions, my Lord Miltrose,
Thy intent fails midst tardily shadows
Albeit findeth tis aid satisfy
Ahh! My Lord Sir Gilroy, tis nice surprise
Twill thine fair milieu idle pitched moist lips
Delivery thrills with a smile post scripts
Admittedly the id did simplify
A lady said the incident eclipse
Ships neither sink nor swim in tranquil Springs
Flights robins and whipper-o-willow wings'
Claims to an anointing gift rectify
Blessings of an innocent child ... heartstrings
Mildly midst millennium ... a voice sings ...
“My Lord’s-in-waiting, beseech thy favor
an ear and harken of woven words will
of a lifetime breathes I, here and now,
True Lord in Waiting in time and place
for us to be … somewhere, someplace,
… for all time."
Long the silence in his crib
Where happiness once bloomed.
Draped in black are closed white doors
Of his empty nursery room.
No longer does his hobby horse
Rock wildly with abandon.
No longer does his happy voice
Echo down the hallway canyon.
Long are the faces of his parents
In the nearby silent bedroom,
Which hide unanswered questions
Among sorrow guilt and gloom.
Why does God take such good young boys,
And leave their homes so unreconciled?
Nothing empties your life so quickly
As the death of your only child.
he wore a green hat with a red flower
he was my bestie, and I adored him
the first person I saw in the morning
my bestie, Wiggly Worm
there were three creatures hanging off him
two bugs and a butterfly
they all three had enormous smiles
they made my day in their vibrant colors
I loved them so when I was two years young
Let each one of us prepare a crib to welcome Jesus in his heart,
Thus
We could learn to love one another and would stop living apart!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
24 December 2022
-
MERRY CHRISTMAS TO EVERY FELLOW POET AND HIS FAMILY!
-
there's a little dog that's laughing
at a cow jumping the moon
and a cat playing a fiddle
on the wall of a bright room
where a mobile's hanging silent
waiting patiently to turn
like the pages on the bookshelf
that proclaim it's fun to learn
and there's a bible on a small crib
with its cross depicting love
for a child born sadly sleeping
into arms of those above.
Christmas memory
reminders activated
by ancestral crib
Some men are against Women's Lib
So the FBI told a fib
If men aren't on top
They can't get the drop
On curves from an Insolent Rib
RATTLE
BATTLE
Aug. 21, 2021 for 'A BRIAN STRAND 2 to 5 line ' Poetry Contest
As I lie here in my six foot crib
Trying not to cry and disturbing the script
Must follow it to a tee
Or be swept out to sea
With all the sharks who'll eat me to bits
CRIB OF BETHLEHEM
Do all pets go to heaven? Do they all cross the rainbow bridge?
Do you have to love the stuffings out of them? Pay the toll bridge?
Are they puppies or full grown crops? How will we know it’s them?
Will they be found by our Savior’s side — by the crib of Bethlehem?
Will we find ours, intact with an appetite to be our playmates?
Did they follow the light? Did they make it through the pearly gates?
Those sucker-punched, bruised and broken - surely God them?
Surely your cross trembled in the woods next to the inn of Bethlehem?
Dogs, cats, rabbits, guinea pigs, parrots - do they have souls?
Turtles, fish, snakes - do some face the fiery coals?
Do all pets go to heaven? Are they purehearted blessed?
Surely Lord, as the royal tables laid, they’re found in your rest?
8/17/2020
Contest: All Pets Go To Heaven
Sponsor: Constance La France
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