My name is Emily,
a word my heart has learned to hold.
Not just a name spoken softly,
but a story God began before I was born.
For before the world ever knew me,
He knew every letter of my name.
He knew my laughter, my tears,
the prayers I would whisper when no one else could hear.
Emily, a name given to me by people,
but a life given to me by God.
And maybe that is the beauty of a name:
it is not simply what we are called,
but a reminder that we are known.
Known by the One who made the stars,
who counts every tear I cry,
who sees every hidden battle
and still calls me His.
So when I hear the name Emily,
I do not just hear who I am.
I hear the name of someone
God created with purpose.
And I pray that one day,
when my story has been fully written,
my name will remind the world
not of everything I was,
but of everything God did through me.
For my name is Emily,
but my truest identity is this:
I am known.
I am loved.
I am His.
Darn kids arrive and turn lives upside down,
Doted and loved and they don’t have a clue,
That parents haven’t a way around it -
But unconditionally, through and through.
For starters we’re awake from sleepless nights,
Then toddlers’ tantrums test our calm and cool.
And folks, please note, we’re stripped of spanking rights
As soon as darn kids start going to school.
Darn kids grow up and out of childhood bliss,
Some move away or in, if basement’s spare.
Now sleepless nights are somehow dearly missed,
It’s daily worries parents have to bear.
Based on facts darn kids don’t make exceptions,
‘Who is loved more’ stems from misconceptions.
None is perfect thus no one is to blame -
We’re hardwired to love them all the same.
While I work from home
two cats, one black and one beige,
stare in the window
of my small, cozy office...
my orange tabby stands guard.
Three felines reflect
a striking combination
of colors and hues...
and show curiosity,
never confrontational.
Later, at the beach,
I see several children,
white and black and brown,
friendly, playing together...
we can learn from cats and kids.
Deep within the city park
stood Barnaby, a highly
grumpy, semi- sentient apple
tree.
He absolutely despised
when children approached
with fawning, goofy faces to
steal his fruit.
Whenever kids giggled and
reached up, Barnaby would
furiously shake his wooden
branches.
THWACK! A barrage of ripe,
juicy red apples went flying
like heat- seeking missiles.
He pelted the screaming kids
right on their bottoms, chuckling
a low, creaky laugh.
The children thought it was a
hilarious game and ran through
the park intentionally.
They made ridiculous,
exaggerated kissy- faces just
to trigger the tree's flying fruit
defense.
Barnaby snorted woodchips,
launching a rapid- fire green
Granny Smith straight at a
nose.
The park echoed with loud,
joyful snorts as apples
bounced harmlessly off
targeted bellies.
The grumpy tree finally
smiled, realizing his thrown
treats made everyone incredibly
happy.
Some say children should be seen not heard
But out of the mouth of babes poignant words
Kids are often innocent observers who play
Never really know just what they’ll say
Tact they haven’t mastered yet
They don’t mean to make you upset
They ask questions and state their view
Sometimes they bring forth a teal truth
Kids who witness trauma are always affected
Laws in society should help them be protected
So many foster kids need a forever home
Resources for them are needed it’s known
But the people who are supposedly pro life
Don’t often adopt or foster or even try
To make these kids feel loved not alone
It’s not their fault they have been wronged
Kids are little people with ideas and dreams
As they grow it’s important we meet kids needs
What was it about
the roar of the crowd
the crack of the bat
the circling of the bases
headfirst slides, the dust they begat
What was it about
the swish of the net
the dripping of sweat
in those musty old gyms
none of us ever forget
What was it about
that seventy-yard pass
dropping like a feather
right in the receiver’s lap
The magic moved us all back then
kids with heroes and larger-than-life dreams
‘til we no longer made the team
‘Til Fenway Park and
Madison Square Garden
became two more venues
for hustlers’ schemes
Daddy doesn't want to play.
I'll find a way to keep busy.
No problem, have your nap.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 1st place 2026
Kids
One day
Dad said:
I’ ear yuh tekkin’ int kids.
I Am
I said:
‘tekkin’ int kids’
Dad said :
Thar’s a good thing ta do
Is tekkin’ int kids.
I said: If you only knew what it
means to ‘tek int kids’
OH?! Dad said:
Gimme an example.
Well, I said:
This one kid.
He wet the bed and stacked dirty
plates high on shelves and he
wouldn’t let anyone into his room.
He said:
I’m only waiting til I’m old enough to get a place at the YMCA.
The manageress says she will save me a place.
Some kids are angry. Some kids are sad.
Some kids are hurting and waiting to find a place.
After six months I thought it was time
to open the door to his locked room.
The bed was wet. Plates stacked high on shelves
It stank and I wondered how he kept himself clean.
Turned out he went home. Each day.
For a deep bath, a meal and to watch TV.
While he waited until he turned eighteen
To take up the place that the manageress kept.
His place. A place. At the YMCA.
They had their chances
She had hers; he had his
Furtive glances
just a pair of kids
Not a single word did they exchange
no rendezvous ever arranged
Even nature seemed to agree
their initials never carved in a tree
Alone in the kitchen—
The refrigerator is the loudest sound.
He sits and compares,
A home that was once too theirs.
Their running up and down the stairs;
Like wild mustangs and without cares
The refrigerator is the loudest sound—
He would prefer theirs.
Too bad they're grown and gone;
Realizing how much you depended on,
Having laces to tie, and crying eyes to dry,
Or how quickly life ambles by.
You hardly notice the passing years,
Till their not around—
And you're alone in the kitchen
And the refrigerator is the loudest sound.
Kids are so cruel these days
~ they manufacture test-tube adults
I remember
when we were just little kids
we always spent the afternoon together
every year
like a pair of clubs and spades
at the holiday carnival
cruising The Paratrooper
as fast as a drop of a coin
masticating on heaps
of salted buttered popcorn
with steaming pepperoni pizzas
and cotton candy both pink and blue
saccharine and light as cirrus clouds
until our bellies erupted
splashy rainbows from
our lurid, esophageal dungeon
like two offbeat carnival kids
living up the holiday fun
Carl’s frequently picking his nose
He's saving it, as does twin Rose
They now have a huge pile
Of dried snot, it's so vile
And daily their collection grows!
Their mother found the pile of snot
And deftly removed the whole lot
Carl cries, Rose starts bleating
"That snot was for eating"
Their mother does not care a jot!
Like the sun’s celestial smile
Beaming yellow happy rays
Across bubbly lovely clouds
Hear the children at play
Spring break is happening
Animals seem to know
Even plants are laughing
Blooming in the wind a glow
Spring has sprung a leak
Everyone seems so relieved
For weary of the winter breeze
Forgetting Jack Frost’s freeze
The woman at the shelter with 7 kids
I felt blessed in my mess
My infant won’t remember this
Her kids were cute from 10 to 2
Pitter patter a stepping ladder
How she loved on them swooned
The shelter gave her a few carts
They made do with those few
Sleeping was a Tetris game of art
I remember how cold it was
We huddle and cuddle
Warming our children with love
Watching like a hawk at lights off
Such a place often not safe
From two legged predators that walk
I told myself never will I share the story
Forget you’re here dry your tears
But trial to triumph God gives glory
I wonder about that woman still
Did her kids remember it
The cots the situation the chill
Instead of keeping it a silver secret
Told my son what was done
Hoping he won’t ever repeat it need it
Thank you for the heavenly volunteers
Working there donating care
I remember after all these years happy tears
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