Evil flute
The evil flute was passed down
Generation to generation
Through the family line
Only a few knowing its power
Everyone else carefree
Until one who used to sit there
Holding grudges against his family
Threw them all in.
Wanting to be king and punish them in hell.
Old fiend
Big Mama was much more than a slave
She was born of African descent
Because she was stolen away
I’ll likely never know my African kin
To be black in America is a struggle
For everyone wants you to believe
That remembering Big Mama is trouble
That you should get over it let it be
Big Mama is my ancestor who I love
Despite what history books ignore
Her photo is black and white untouched
In my family it is a treasure stored
I can not call her by her name
That too is a cranberry crime
But her strength is like red flame
That ignited and united family line
I notice her long flowing dress
Imagine it took hours to press
We still have her iron who’d guess
The hands that touched it were blessed
She doesn’t smile in the photo
As was custom of her day
But from above she smiles I know
For she lived and made a way
For me to see her in her life
Standing there by a huge tree
A matriarch a queen with pride
Who had to die to finally be free.
So Big Mama with brown eyes
Our family will honor you eternally
May your soul stay free and rise
May we one day meet as family
I found him in a box of dust-soft relics,
a face blurred by time yet bright with family and memory.
From brittle scrapbook pages, his life unfolded-piece by piece,
his story rose—a German farm boy who fled Dorn,
the sailor who leapt into Gulf-dark waters, swimming
toward Galveston Bay and the faint glow of a future he hoped to claim.
Texas shaped him with love, labor, and loss,
eight children rooting his family deep into new soil.
Dusk pooled in the attic around me, his courage moved
through our family line into my own bones~a quiet inheritance.
*You may find the accompanying memoir vignette at poetrysoup.com/short_stories/the_stranger_in_the_box_13607
Silent Shadows
Lurking in the dark.
No boundaries, free to roam.
Lost spirits.
Vivid images.
Ghostly souls.
Silent Shadows.
Can you see them in the dark?
Haunted houses.
Haunted hotels.
The Paranormal.
Skeptic ghost seekers.
Craving for the darkness.
Eerie hallways.
Distressful feelings.
The dead are watching.
Eyes are staring.
Is your town haunted?
Maybe your family line is cursed.
You seek the dead.
You ponder the ghost that roam.
i didn't like living in the house of my parents. i hated the constant stress and worrying that lay on my back as i fulfilled the duties of being their only son. i tried to make myself different from them, to distinguish that i was my own person, i wasn't the same people who judged, the loud persona holding people they were.
but then i looked into the family bathroom mirror. i looked at my hair- thick and curly. my father's bald now, but in his childhood pictures, he had the thickest, curliest hair to exist. i have my mother's temper and her eyes. me and my brother share the same sway back.
i'm just like my family.
Donna Fine is full of conceity
I do not know why for the life of me
With self-exaltation she shows her pride
Her boasting makes her difficult to abide
Narcisstic tendency are in her family line
I stay away from this creepster, Donna Fine
Crossing Lines
You ruinous rascal
Just a rat in the pack
You forced me to sell
now I just want it back
Calamity came
You had the highest bid
Simon’s sister Sydney
liked what you did
You think you’re the winner
She’s bouncing on your lap
Smug with contentment
as you tip your cap
A rollercoaster is coming
You’ll plummet from the top
Shattering successful illusion
your status will drop
A ring is a circle
it will come back to me
The curse you purchased
I’ll get back for free.
It was no bargain
It tainted her skin
Sapped away her beauty
You watched her grow thin
Five hundred years
precious so divine
Not meant for another
only one family line.
muddy the waters
~ taking all the footwear when
the rain starts to fall
Father waters he'll
hold ~ I swear it's gospel truth
chicken little's right
pour cold water on
should stop fights with you ~ but not
all sayings perfect
uncharted waters
~ idea map for ships to
follow make-up one
be water off a
duck's back ~ finger pointing an
axe to grind slander
blood is thicker than
water ~ our family line
has drawn our pure blood
At the end of a family line
she is lost on a bare branch that leads nowhere,
A twig extended into just sky
is her last journey
it is a finger pointing at an unmarked end.
I imagine her a lost little girl,
somebody's orphan or castaway.
When that child cries (which is often),
for the totally lost are inconsolable,
then, I wake up in that emptiness
where nothing branches
I mind-crawl as near as I can get to her.
The closer I get the more a cold wind roars
until that tree of far flung relationship's
sways back and forth.
I try to keep calm, call to her
as if she were a cat
I were trying to coax down from a high place.
She is always looking away from me.
I think she hears my voice
I am sure she knows me, but how and from where?
I can't hold on to this slim rocking branch any longer
and have to edge back to where the limbs
are thick and strong. As I retreat
slowly she fades away or is it I that fades?
She has no recorded history
but we are definitely both on the same DNA ladder
only some rungs are broken
and they can never now be mended.
welcome to the monster family stomp
tromp slap skittle scurry trip and tromp
were those the rats so evil and furry?
monsters are afraid of these creatures, so hurry!
I think one just bit me down deep in my head!
Man up, you idiot, yelled my uncle rafe.
Dracula is here, showing us how to dance red.
A hoarse laugh made me feel unsafe.
This is as idiotic as the two-step said Auntie Mare.
The next thing I knew, she was thrown down a stair.
Next time there won’t be a warning, Dracula said with a sneer.
I was horrified, because now I was filled with big fear.
tromp slap skittle scurry stomp stomp stomp
this line dancing set up fits well in this swamp.
glad you like it, I can read your mind.
it was some strange creature of the loudest kind.
tromp slap skittle spin twirl, dash spin.
I did not dare get out of the family line I was in.
On Dad’s 75th, instead of singing,
we recited cadence.
On the video from 9 years prior,
Dad points out Mom’s huge smile
and I point out his.
I see his family line all likewise grinning,
joining in the smile brigade
from heaven’s open window.
AM I MY BROTHER’S KEEPER
if the one issue is murder,
murder’s number one,
let’s ignore “the truth”
“put on this blindfold
listen to my soothing words.
i’m your mama.
no, i’m not pulling your leg.
don’t look at the man behind the curtain
nor the puppeteer.
ignore the split; pretend
it’s a banana split, all pretty.
put a bow on it.
don’t worry; you don’t need to look.”
look the other way.
traffic’s coming;
but it’s not you who gets “hit”
mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, in-laws
missing from the family line.
who cares for those lumped
into a heap of parts;
parts for sale
sell the koolaid
in all its l-o-v-e-l-y hues —
choose is the flavor of the day
obey the almighty parade
of fame and fortune
the “sacrifices” don’t even warrant
a burial plot
1/24/2021
Then the Lord said to Cain, Where is your brother Abel?”
“I don’t know,” he replied. “Am I my brother’s keeper?”
The LORD SAID, “What have you done? LISTEN!
Your brother’s blood cries out to me from the ground.”
Genesis 4:9-10 NIV
It's the same old song
of love and the world gone wrong
that endless need and want
that walks in the shadows of democracies haunt.
Is it a dream, some wild restless interlude
of sleepless nights and dreams that exude
the love of self more than your neighbor
and in God's eye, who gains the favor?
Give me your tired and your poor
just don't let them knock on my door
and who is the refugee you see
in the generations before our own ancestry?
Were it not for the passage of time
where would be this familiar family line
of streaming lives in search of the dream
held back by rhetorical bureaucratic screams?
Voices speak and shout yet remain unheard
trying to hold freedoms spurned by false words
content to keep those in charge in political char
when the people's choices remain barred.
This major-minority is too easily swayed by thrills
outspoken and angry at the use of guns and pills
but we are challenged at every turn along
to sing the same old song.
The future lays waiting round the bend
and what wisdom does America send?
Generations still to come
will look back at the foolishness we have done.
Even as the Son is in Thee,
I want to be growing from seed,
Giving glory in holy sanctity,
Closer in Thee.
As the earth is to tree,
I want to be rooted in peace,
Founded in holy increase,
Bound up, never to leave.
My soul’s richness,
Deepens in living waters,
Ever flowing pure and evenly,
In the time we spend in beauty.
My life enlivens, with childlike excitement,
Jubilant in divine, holy love,
In unity and celestial thrill,
As we approach time on our sacred hill.
Our love is one of truth,
A tender bond of loyalty,
Giving our whole souls as proof,
Sealed in the bosom of eternity.
I cry out to all the families,
Throughout all unending space,
Time, and all the eternities,
Remember your Godly place!
Secure your family line and home on high,
With relationships divine, husbands and wives,
Children, Fathers, Mothers, Brothers and Sisters,
All entwined throughout eternal lives.
Family Line
We each stand in one long line.
Back to Adam all Mankind.
The line is precious to our hearts;
Though it consists of many parts.
Country, race, and next of kin.
It is our future, and where we've been.
All riders on some cosmic bus;
Who are these folks that make up us?
If Grandma was a Nubian Queen;
Stranger things are often seen.
Veterans of perhaps a thousand wars;
Past Generations, just thus far.
Doctors, Lawyers, Indian Chiefs;
Murderers, rapists, cads, and thieves.
All stand behind us, and that's fine;
We're standing in our family line.
Why should we notice? What's the worth?
Of noticing our time on earth?
The line's a circle don't you see?
It stretches round eternity.
Look brightly and don't think it odd.
The line begins and ends with God.
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