Long Like a son Poems
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There is a train coming for President Jimmy Carter
On his way home to the Kingdom of Heaven
While living, President Carter’s life was always on the move
His heart and generosity to the American people President carter proved
A true Humanitarian
His spoken words being encouragement
Being nourishment for the needy
Faith being his key factor his entire life
I looked to President Carter being like a father
I felt like a son listening to his wisdom he shared
Even though we never met, I did witness him always on the TV
Negativity was never part of him
Four years after, President Carter was running for President again,
and I had taken a Broadcast Journalism course at CUNY Hunter College
My class had the opportunity to be engaged on BILL BOGGS TALK SHOW
In 1980 when President Carter and President Reagan were running for the Presidency on FOX 5
It was a political year that year
Unfortunately, President Reagan won the White House in 1980
President Carter didn’t see it as defeat, but saw it as an opportunity to be
Involved with the people and be involved various social functions
Humble man and upright
He gave all for mankind
Pure genuine
President Carter had a determination spirit
For that he gets 100 percent merit
President Carter was devoted to his wife in love
Romantic and long lasting
Heaven’s open hands welcome
America saddened
Everlasting assurance
President Carter is looking down on all of us saying, “Head Up and Look Up”
He had a purpose and so do we
My hero
Until we meet again.
Eleanor looked down at St. Peter’s and smiled.
“More visitors today,” she reported.
Her angel mentor smiled.
A scullery maid in life,
Dead at the age of forty-four,
Eleanor had never suspected she would become famous
Best day of my spirit life
When those two boys met
At my gravestone, she said.
John came over and said,
“Best pals ever,” sending Paul vast love.
Her tomb was such a landmark!
“I will never be lonely again,” she said.
“Come sing with me,” John coaxed her.
He could charm her like a son.
Written 9-020-2019
Poetry Contest: Eleanor Rigsby Who Was She
Sponsor: Jerry T. Curtis
Abraham Abraham
from where did you come
what made you Gods favorite
why were you like a son
was it because of special care
that you gave to his name
while others made up other god's
you worshiped the only real one
with in your heart you held a secret
and it could not be made with hands
he saw the love and mercy
that was given to the man
so to him God told his secrets
and planted His great seed
He made him important promises
that mankind will one day need
and so begins the story of a family
and begins a story of one who'll die for me
take the time to listen and put the puzzle together
tell the story to your family and things will be much better
She keeps wasting strength, rattling her cage.
Begging to be freed, immured for her age,
first sign of nubile growth- they all want a ‘piece’,
gorging on her oppressed spirit; calling it a tease.
None see the child locked within her form.
A woman from the day she ‘bleeds’. Such is the norm!
Forced now to enshroud all her slow-swelling bits,
jeered if she stands too straight, judged if she sits.
Her rights and choices are twins locked in cells.
Hushed if she laughs too loud, horse-whipped if she yells,
the year-older brother is left loose to grow,
unrestrained he plays while she gets a ‘No!’
Young minds do wander, she finds catharsis in love.
She bunks school in secret to 'make out' in the grove,
he is young too and breaks the pact, talks to a friend,
who promptly tells all to get in on the trend!
Her plight is prude gossip, the school calls her kin.
Bad grades and reticence are blamed on her 'sin',
the boy gets a knuckle rap and is asked to behave,
he nods leaving her alone to mope in her cave.
She is beaten until all the brown turns blue.
Her story is an anecdote, a warning, a clue,
she’s worse than before from losing her pals-
whose folks have told them to steer clear of 'bad gals'.
She scrapes through school with her average grades.
Reduced to shabby clothes and well-oiled braids,
she sticks to the schedule, keeps her head up,
pinning hopes on a job to pick her out of this sup.
Near-tasting liberation she hollers in joy.
Alas! She can’t take the job they have found her a boy,
maybe he would set her free if she says 'yes' to this,
they don’t want her anymore; she’d at least be his.
He spins tales of love to get her in bed.
She's not wise yet to see through his head,
his doll in ‘fancy’ clothes- she sates his lust,
colored lips can’t coat brains corroding from rust.
He’s signed the lease! They own a house!
She smiles and slowly unzips her blouse,
stuck feeding their child, she has not a life,
he sees ‘apathy’ and wages war on the wife.
Older from enduring, she doesn’t earn yet pays.
‘Your brother has moved out. It’s been ten days!’,
she waits in bated breath for her 'gilded' locks to turn,
there’s no freedom for compliant girls- will she ever learn!
For half her life, she has been taught to 'shut up and listen’,
now she forces the bars open, to raise her girl like a son.
He has been attached to me since he was a baby
And I became his every day caregiver, loving him like a son
Not a grandson.
His amber eyes watching my face for cues as to
how fascinated I was, or how silly we would get to be
On that day.
He is twelve now, and as tall as I am, yet
He is not too old to lie on me like a puppy.
Languishing on my lap or just leaning against me.
He took an assessment test
And it came out that he has the
Heart of a counselor, a listener, a helpmate
I am not surprised.
He is the most tender heart in the family.
Worrying about everyone else
at the expense of himself
I believe he learned that from me.
I have no idea how but he is the most
empathetic caring soul I have ever met.
His name is Jack. He is twelve.
Contest: 2 to 12 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Beth Evans
.
Am a Single Day Father, like my father.
I have never accepted my son,
And show him my inner feelings,
This is a trend which comes from my father,
He never became dad to me,
I never saw him holding me,
Buying me sweets and big G!
Never had sleep on his chest!
And feel the love from his heart!
Look at me! I have father but nor dad!
Shame on me course I have done the same,
Left my son with her mother,
Never feel bad for that,
Shame on my father for he created this.
They say, I was illicitly child.
Borne under sinful love,
What about my son?
Is he the same?
I am a Single Day Father, like a Father like a Son.
We had a dog that was so dear to us.
He died in April of the year before.
He was so faithful and he did not fuss
like some dogs do. I couldn’t love him more
than how I loved that darling pet of ours.
He liked to be with us, and mostly all
he did was lay around with us for hours.
He wasn’t very great at playing ball,
but he sure liked his walks and times to eat.
I loved to pet him while I watched TV
and give to him a tasty doggy treat.
That dog was almost like a son to me.
A new dog we've now got. I hope to say
I’ll love this new dog just as much one day.
Feb. 8, 2023
For Writing Challenge - D Words - Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Carry on,
Carrion, lonely heart of mine
Till the dawn
Is against the dusk so fine
When dawn arrives undone,
I wonder where you have gone
Are you having fun in the sun?
Sorry for acting like a son of a gun
Carry on
Till the dawn
Oh, hon…
I'm taking a run
I'm waking up at 4 AM once again
Then, I am feeling much like a ten
Oh, dear friend…
This is not the end
Carry on...carry on…
Carrion heart of stone
Carry on...carry on…
Carrion heart of alone
Carry on...carry on…
Where do you go (before the dawn?)
Carry on...carry on…
I hope you know (you'll have to move on)
I'm a cold soul,
So out of place
I'm a lone fool…
Without vast grace
Carry on
Till the dawn
Oh, hon…
I'm taking a run
I'm waking up at 4 AM once again
Then, I am feeling much like a ten
Oh, dear friend…
This is not the end
Carry on...carry on…
Carrion heart of stone
Carry on...carry on…
Carrion heart of alone
Carry on...carry on…
Where do you go (before the dawn?)
Carry on...carry on…
I hope you know (you'll have to move on)
I wonder why I was lost (I was lost)
In the hands of the Lord
I ponder upon His Word at all cost
I can't afford His accord…
This strife in life is killing me (is killing me oh so true)
A little bit as I waste away and sit
I am alive and I have survived what I've been through
Through being fit and having wit
Come on
Carry on,
Carrion, lonely heart of mine
Till the dawn
Is against the dusk so fine
Come on
Shine on, hon
Come on,
Newborn sun
remembered for when the moonlight waned;
the stars grew dizzy and lost their bright;
the wolf leaned on his paws, silently watching;
the darkness grew within, bloodletting.
his mother would see his pale shell;
solitary figure in early morning grief.
pitch, like a spotlight in my bedroom;
specification of dark.
the call won’t come
until after his father wakes up; perhaps,
God granted a few more minutes peace
before the sun melted like wax.
the wax mask would become ashen.
ashes fly like a son from the tips of their fingers.
side by side, together on the mountainside.
ashes leapt into the air, four years past;
halloween, a scare, an early morning reality.
his guitar silenced; his voice on repeat.
teardrops splash off vinyl,
round and round;
seasons come and go…
What the Dickens! Santa ain't wearing knickers
well his pants got caught inside the chimney
now here's the kicker...
Little Joe woke up in the middle of the night
and gave Santa such a jolly fright
now here's the kicker...
It was drafty there wasn't any gas nor heat
Mrs. Chump snored upstairs like dead meat
now here's the kicker...
Mr. C was 5 feet tall and wasn't a Clause at all
he didn't know how to rob Peter to pay Paul
now here's the kicker...
The real Ms. C owned a solar panel, Oh what fun
gave it to Ming Ming who flew like a Son Of A Gun!
now here's the kicker... Eh !
He burned Santa's pants then laughed, giggled, scoffed
but as Santa danced around the sun poured in the loft
now here's the real kicker...
Christmas was a blast now little Joe C could finally be,
toasty as a glow worm in a house built for three.
Merry Christmas Everyone !
Love,
From Santa's Girl :)