Long My sister Poems
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On meeting ruminants
My mother had tuberculosis, and my sister and older brother
sent to a children's home, where the idea was strictness
My brother didn't come he had an accident with
a hand grenade, he threw, but not far enough ended up
in hospital and later sent to an island breaking stones
in a quarry
My sister and I had gone to a Roma wedding and had been
told not to go to, a real working-class do, the bride was
pregnant in white, with plenty of food, and booze to
Everything began fine music and dance, until a woman
in a jealous rage, tore at the hair of another woman
Other women joined the melee, depending on the family
lines, but soon the men fired up by booze and dance
joined in a mass fighting.
Police were called, they came with batons swinging
when peace ensued the police went back to their
station, no arrest was made
When we got back to the children's home, she went
to the house for girls and I to the house for boys
I sat in the piano room, which had a picture of men with long beards, looking serious when the boss arrived to punish me came in, I threw a vase at him
The next morning, I was sent to a farm to learn how to milk
cows and and an enduring respect for ruminants
is always on my mind, as is their mild nature
It was such a long time ago,
but I still remember the day
she came to live with us,
my aunt, a young widow.
Everybody called her Rosy,
maybe because she had pink cheeks,
her real name nobody remembered.
My sister and I became her instant fans,
not because she was such a beauty,
we adored her for the way she treated us,
she was so caring, so loving.
The reason I now understand,
she found in us her unborn children.
In the evening after she finished her chores
she would tell us stories
she heard from her husband, a soldier,
stories of the lands he had gone,
of the battle he had fought and won.
We could see a tiny drop of tear
shine in the corner of her eye.
As she told why the bold soldier didn’t return
a sense of pride flashed,
remembering her husband in those stories,
she found him come alive.
In the gleam of the twilight hour
her lively face glowed like a flower
in the crimson of the setting sun,
and aunt Rosy turned into a rose.
Her real name nobody remembers,
but then I ask, “what’s in a name”,
for a rose is a rose is a rose.
March 12, 2019
Oh, let me pen a few words
about my childhood days please
I can recall far back to about two
and I get glimpses of such happiness
of playing with my dolls and teddy bears
and running with my sister
mother chasing us laughing
I was five when death came to visit us
snatching my beloved sister away
oh, I was never the same girl again
I withdrew inside of me
and felt no need to speak words
no one could reach me in my silent place
until grandma reached me with poetry
on her lap I listened to her reading
I listened to spoken words
of her heritage and life
she gave me the gift of storytelling
I would sit quietly and pen some words
then I read aloud to my family
and thus by the age of twelve
I was a poet of words
_____________________________
October 30, 2019
Poetry/Verse/The Child Who was Me
Copyright Protected, ID 1192-431-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, 2 to 12
sponsor, Beth Evans
Second Place
It was sunday afternoon,
we were in the living room.
When in walked my big sister
and my whole world just went Boom!
She announced that she was pregnant!
Yes in the family way!
I was lost for words,
not a thing to say.
My Mother she went mad,
so did Dad as well,
the words that they both said,
i cant repeat or tell.
My brother he just laughed,
( I think he needs to grow. )
But then he is the youngest
and doesn"t really know!
My Sister she just cried,
yes cried and sobbed and wept,
and then on my Mothers lap,
eventually she slept!
My Mother looked at Dad,
Dad looked at the floor,
i glanced up at my brother
as he headed out the door.
The silence in that room,
was the worst i"d ever hear.
I looked at Mum and Dad,
felt the pressure and the fear!
Up the stairs went thumping,
and my brother reached his room.
We could hear him on his mobile,
relating doom and gloom.
Then we heard him laughing,
i thought " His head will roll!"
You"d think he"d know by now,
to take some Mirth Control!
Six relatives
shell upon shell of relationships
Each layer has its function
Even hens keeps the family in order
My sister Lina and I
are completely different
only a leaf thin wall
separates the laughter from the tears
She is hypersensitive
but incredibly friendly and caring
Frank my brother is my best friend,
he's dear to talk to
We likes to spend
many hours together every day
A special friendship that lasts a lifetime
Aunt Astrid and Uncle Sigmund
is always to be trusted in thick and thin
although I have barely seen them in five years
Sofie and Silje are twins
and my cousins
Have you ever met
someone who never stops talking
They talk all times,
whether they gets an answer or not
Humorous remarks, they are incredible
Gives everything of itself, own experiences,
personal anecdotes, memories and observations
Lots of bubbles and laughter
Some times I wonder on the coincidences in life
We depend on each other, and we need each other
Although we are completely different
20.11.2020
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
¯\_(O O)_/¯
(fictional poem)
i wonder if my sister is aware
she’s the reason i lost my muchness
it’s like i don’t want to be loud anymore
i want to be like a whisper
or a gust of wind
i want to be quiet and go unnoticed
so bad that i tip toe
and hold my breath
maybe because i approached it all wrong as a kid i lost my will to live the life
i never got to lead
is it possible to lose your identity
before it’s developed
like it’s some kind of original sin?
is it okay
to mourn the loud, artsy, confident person
that i could’ve grown up to be?
and although it might not be your fault,
i owe it to her
to give you the guilt
because one grave and one gun
tell the story
of a killing that went untold
maybe i was right
to become less
maybe polka dots in ladybug patterns
and pink rain boots
won’t prepare me for the real world
but will crop tops and make up
make such a vast difference
that she had to strip me
from that little kid’s clothes?
and maybe i did talk too much
but have you thought
that maybe you just listened too little?
and for some reason you don’t know my worth
until my lips are coated in glitter
but how can i catch up
when you also get older each year?
if im smart
and kind
and funny
you’re just everything that i had to miss
and i understand that you’re hurting,
but can’t you see
im hurting too?
the difference is
that you tried to kill me
while i tried to mourn you
I see things from here,
heaven has,
a beautiful view,
I know things,
about you,
my sister does too,
when you found out,
all the things we knew,
you threw me to,
heaven,
above the sky so blue,
My earthly voice was muted,
by your,
bloodied hands,
but on the other side,
of heaven,
there's a room,
so ballroom grand,
it holds the tears,
and screams,
of every murdered woman,
child and man,
It's there,
we sing our stories,
whilst the angels dance,
the saddest songs imagined,
waltzing hand in hand,
violins bring tears,
as the angels sway,
I joined in,
the dance of death,
becoming bitterly lost,
along the way,
I became,
a fallen angel,
to avenge,
the ones I love,
left down on earth,
when I was thrown,
here above,
I'll not let you,
throw them,
the same as you,
did to me,
I'll become,
your worst,
nightmare,
one you'll,
never be able,
to see,
if you die too,
who would ever believe,
that an angel like me,
was the one,
who threw you?
My sister broke her C-2 which is part of your neck up high
She wore a brace for three months, then she had surgery
Surgery was to ensure that she might not have a wheelchair for life
There was no guarantee that it would be successful, but she has faith.
She put her neck into the hands of a highly skilled surgeon.
Dr. Kawasaki has an excellent reputation, and he fixed her up.
The C-2 is as high in the back as your nose is in the front.
As you can imagine, this was serious.
The physical therapist was worried when she saw sister’s file.
It was fifty-eight pages long. She wondered what she could do to help.
My sister walked in, and the P.T. kept a straight face for eight weeks.
Before she walked out the last time, the P.T. was honest with her.
When you walked in here, I was shocked, she told her.
I have been a P.T. for thirty-two years.
Anyone with a broken C-2 I have met was in a wheelchair or on a respirator.
The others ones are dead. You are a walking miracle.
My sister is completely healed now, and there is no pain.
I cannot say we believe in the power of God any more
But we certainly respect His decision to make her one of His miracles.
My malamute-German Shepherd puppy Buddy was glad to see my twin sis.
He jumped from couch to recliner to couch, wagging his tail in pure joy.
When he flew into the second couch, it scooted three feet into the kitchen.
His head went back and forth as Carolyn and I talked and laughed.
We are identical, and he was thrilled!
Two MOMMIES!!!!!!!! WHAT?
He was super delighted.
He ran past me so hard to twirl in a circle, I think he bruised my knee.
He finally settled down on a glider next to my sister.
I know she does not like animals of any kind. They “smell”.
He settled down swiftly, putting his head across her legs.
He licked her hand.
She laughed.
It was then that I stopped holding my breath.
Buddy was in love!
Remember the day
mom, when I was born
it was in a Canadian snow storm
Remember the day
you held me to your heart
and whispered that you loved me
Remember the day
I walked for the very first time
and you said I was a smart girl
Remember the day
we buried my sister, mom
and you held me to your heart
Remember the day
I got my first kitten named Snowball
she had come in a Christmas stocking
Remember the day
we buried her in the garden
and you held me to your heart
Remember the day
I read you my first poems
and you smiled with so much pride
Remember the day
dad died suddenly and we cried
and you held me to your heart
Remember the day
you got sick, so sick, mom
and I held you to my heart
Remember the day
_______________________
January 26, 2020
Poetry/Free Verse/Remember The Day
Copyright Protected, ID 01-1317-680-26
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Submitted to the Premier contest, Your Best 2020 Poem
sponsor, Chantelle Anne Cooke, Judged 01/01/21
First Place