He Was a Child Once, Too
He was a child once, too—
before the dusk outgrew the dawn,
before his little hands knew
how much a heart could carry on.
A face once lived beyond his sight,
then slipped away from memory’s light;
and childhood, like a fading tune,
grew quiet beneath a borrowed moon.
He became a roof in someone’s rain,
a little warmth against their pain;
he gave his flame so others could see,
while darkness kept a place for him silently.
He wore the years like a borrowed coat,
kept every storm inside his throat;
and though the world saw strength in him,
I know the child still lives within.
To me, that man is not merely strong—
he is the real hero of my life.
I love you, Abu.
— Zehreen
They ask about my first love.
I tell them she ruined me.
Before I knew what romance required,
She was already teaching me
That love looked more like sacrifice
Than butterflies.
She worked when she was tired.
Smiled when she was worried.
Went without
So I wouldn't notice we were without.
Looking back...
Every woman I ever loved
Had to compete with a standard
She never knew she created.
She taught me
That love never needed applause.
I watched her give away
The better portion of herself,
Then somehow convince everyone else
She still had plenty left.
I've spent years searching
For another heart like hers.
Never found one.
Then I remembered...
I wasn't supposed to.
She was my mother.
No wonder no one else ever stood a chance.
I was a child with questions, no answers in sight,
Why was love absent, why was home not so bright?
A little girl stood in a storm alone,
Searching for love that she had never known.
But then two hands held me, old yet so strong,
My grandparents whispered, "Child, you belong."
They did not ask about my scars or past,
They gave me love that would forever last.
They taught me to read, to write, to dream,
To find my voice, to proudly scream.
Where mother left shadows, they gave me light,
They turned my darkness into mornings bright.
So no, I am not broken, not lost anymore,
I have found what I was looking for.
I am not the tears my childhood knew,
I am the love my grandparents grew.
Robbie came home in the evening it was 6 p.m.
He'd come from a hard day of work again
He had himself a plate of steak and eggs
and a cold sweet tea,
Sat down to hang out with his family
No matter what stresses his days would bring
Coming home to them was always
the perfect thing
By: J.N.R Dutton
night sky, autumn stars:
my wife's gentle thoughtfulness
my son's compassion
Come now brother, lay your head.
The gates swing wide.
Your name is printed in the book of life.
Where demons no longer abide.
The mat on which you laid no longer restrains.
What you endured in the end,
What others saw with saddened eyes,
Is not what I know will ascend.
No smell of smoke and ash for you, my brother.
No gnawing of teeth or tearing of clothes.
No sufferance, no gripe.
No picking of flesh from vultures and crows.
You’ll be in clear skies and streets of gold.
Our mother to embrace and earthly father to see.
Distant, loving friends all gathered,
With love…oh the love and grace you will receive.
Sounds of trumpets blasts open the gates.
A loving embrace of a warming light.
“Well done my son,” Whispered in your ear,
A kiss upon your cheek from He who has all might.
No heavy weight, no broken stride,
Just open arms and perfect rest.
The long dark night is finally gone.
Peace to you, my brother; peace, my love, I profess.
small stuff don't matter
it's the bigger things that do
love and family
A little steel robot named
Spark had a dream,
To join in a family and
eat some ice cream.
He watched from the
window as children would
play.
And wished he could join
them and laugh through the
day.
His dogs were all shiny, his
wires were all bright,
But he wanted a hug when
he turned off at night.
He made a cardboard heart
with a big red design,
And taped it right over his
battery line.
He walked to the park with a
hopeful metal grin,
And asked a kind family, "Can
I please fit in?"
The mother knelt down and
she patted his head,
"You don't need real skin to
be family, " she said.
The children cheered loudly
and gave him a squeeze,
While Spark felt a warmth
from his head to his knees.
He helped bake the cookies
and sweep up the floor,
And watched for the
mailman right by the front
door.
Even though made out of metal
and powered by gears,
He shared in their laughter
and wiped away tears.
He didn't need blood or a
heartbeat to strive,
The love from his family
made Spark feel alive.
Stands in the shoes of the lonely and destitute
Is quietly wise, soft-spoken yet astute
Sows with joy the bounty of wisdom's fruits
Tends to the heart with words that soothe
Embraces that two, in unity, can stand resolute
Reaches across the silence with laughter and truth
Harbours a love that runs deep, flowing profuse
Offers her light without limit or excuse
Overcomes, by the Lamb's power, all cycles of abuse
Drawn closely to His side - forever her chains are loosed
give my life meaning
while we play chess
and I focus on him
while he considers his next move
Mine I made almost twelve years ago
when I decided to make him
with my husband
His nose is mine,
his wry sense of humor
is his father's
"What did the sphere say
to the triangle?
Why can't you play rock and roll?"
His keen sense of character
comes from his grandmother
(my side)
"I'm happiest on days like these"
It is ninety-two degrees outside
at four-thirty in the afternoon
and my son, as usual,
has turned the tables
and will beat me at chess
the board that was left in the rain
more than one night
and is almost as old as me, now
I will bicker and laugh,
demanding a do-over
Life is in the laughter
of fast, forgotten games,
dirt and dried leaves on the porch,
stuck under our feet,
The cardinals could care less
for us,
living only a bit longer
Raja, our soft precious fluffer nutter,
for you, I always melt like love butter.
Simply watching you sends me aflutter.
With tail up high, you are a grand strutter.
You are the best dog we have ever known.
Your intelligence is frequently shown.
That cover is only now and then blown,
like when trapped in a plastic bag hole zone.
You fetch, heal and we all think, sometimes speak;
'I muve you', 'mello' and 'melp' sound unique.
At times I think your talk is tongue and cheek.
You tell and show all our doors you WILL peak.
Unlike most felines, you hang with your peeps.
Together, more pack love flows for our keep.
You stay to play, talk, groom, perhaps lap sleep
and for popcorn, cheese or yogurt to reap.
Now thirteen, you want a new mattress share,
between us, on our pillows and my hair.
Knowing what you do not, I hold you there
to memorize you for my heart's layers.
With the passing stars, i have grown my scars.
Family has passed, their love forever shall last.
The universe that be, Its shall shelter me.
My respect i give, a cycle to begin.
Down, down, down town
To the space of demise
The love of his life
Degraded to nothing but lies
The news of joyful bliss
Now the announcement of death
Wanting to share in commitment
Rendered as the contract of regret
Open to love within means
Is fear with license to kill
Unaddressed trauma has a seat
In expression that is never real
Closed is the casket of cause
No reason for flow to end
Except for the unyielding heart
With sharp edges, unwilling to bend
...untold
Written by Trudy Schrader on 05-23-2026
Your baby.
I am your baby.
Tell that to your tongue—
the same tongue that cuts deeper
than any blade I’ve ever known.
Or do you choose to cut?
Your baby.
I am your baby.
Does your womb remember me?
Or has it sheltered too many
to still recognize me?
Does it not ache
when my heart breaks in silence?
I came from you.
Do you not remember that?
I didn’t ask to be here—
but you wanted a baby.
And you got one.
Too bad motherhood
wasn’t what you imagined.
Too bad it came with sleepless nights,
heavy hands,
and words you couldn’t swallow.
But that is not a fault
I can carry for you.
And still…
I am your baby.
The one who waits
for your voice to soften..
The one who listens
for love between the anger.
The one who stays
even when it hurts.
Your baby.
Still your baby.
Even when your hands are distant.
Even when your words forget me.
Even when your love feels like
something I have to earn.
I am still here—
Waiting...
Still hoping
you will remember
how to be gentle
with your baby.
That you will remember I am still your baby.
Freedom-bliss around family love prevails
Around caring nurture that our blest home hails...
My heart does thank God for parents' legacy
Instilling compassion, truth, peace, and mercy...
Leading us, their children* with their utmost best
Yielded to divine might toward triumph's crest.
Love-filled, my siblings and I enjoyed life's worth
Optimizing very well --- heaven on earth...
Vanquishing selfishness midst sharing delight
Ever-grateful to extend love in hope's light.
Ephesians 6:1 Children, obey your parents in the Lord: for this is right.
Acrostic in couplet as well as rhyme forms.
May 9, 2026
6th place, "All About Family" Poetry Writing Premiere Contest
Sponsored by Len Gasun; judged on 5/17/2026
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