Long Sibling Poems
Long Sibling Poems. Below are the most popular long Sibling by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sibling poems by poem length and keyword.
'fore World War 2, a little boy was born
And the family count was five
Rejoicing was: Word-of-the-Day,
A good time to be alive
Then came The War in Germany
And the husband/Dad was gone
The family count was down to four
But still, they carried on
The kids grew up, and helped their Mom
With chores, and paying jobs
But Times were hard and difficulties
Were accompanied by sobs.
Then came the call: The oldest son
Died where he’d gone to ski
Sadness and misery
The family now was: three
Hard times and tragedies
Continued to accrue …
Then God called the Mom away,
Now there’s only two.
Today my only sibling passed away in sleep
It cannot be undone.
The little family
Has eroded down to one.
We began our late winter do-over
with a dirty ceramic bowl
during a too-much snowstorm.
Well, no,
obviously that's not where this rebirth story begins
but neither is a cream-colored
and clean
bowl
where this story ends.
Anyway,
I look at Matilda's mac and cheese bowl
from the RaggedyAnn frosty night before
while an early morning April Fool's snow blanket
arises perfectly
peacefully
majestically
and really too wetly
outside our kitchen windows.
I wash his late night
and lunch-time dishes all the time,
with grateful precision.
Not all the time,
but frequently,
poignantly,
yet he washes his dishes
without touching Matilda's or mine.
Why would our Cooperative WinWin Gamer
not see how inappropriately WinLose
this is?
Never mind about disrespectful
and possibly selfish.
How does this lack of awareness
betray us,
a more or less functional
resilient cooperative health service unit?
What does this mean
and what is his message
through medium
of round crusty artifact?
I do his dishes
because I'm washing dirty dishes
so I don't have to look at them,
or smell them,
and so they don't attract pests
when they are not well rinsed
by RaggedyAnn feisty nubian princess.
Is this because I am a responsible adult
and a parent of hurt children?
And he is not?
And, if so,
then why would our WinWin Gamer
assume it's OK
to not act like a responsible young adult
and Cooperative Gaming Sibling?
Facilitator,
both teacher and regenerational student
of healthy resilient life-skills.
Is this message ageist,
and/or anti-parental?
Downsides of Peter Panism,
Eastern Innocence
without strong ecocentrically mature roots,
yet.
So I asked him
about why leaving dirty bowls is OK
for him
regardless of who started it.
And we talked cooperatively WinWin
together
about why they aren't so great for me,
and possibly us.
That helped us
both to see ourselves
and each other
in some ways
newborn clean bowl differently.
It was about then
this magical early spring snowstorm
faded toward partly sunny
and shoulder-warmer.
All the wars and hatred that's involved, all the pain and heartache
And what has it ever solved but the realization of our own mistake
All that rage out there on the road and our prisons which overflow
With so many seeds of hate sowed that is just how things will go
All that spousal and child abuse and just all the evil acts at will
Instead of making a truce, of hatred people can't get their fill
In such a cut throat society they have even taken God away
So all this they can't see until of course it is finally their day
Neighbors against neighbors and so too sibling against sibling
For that is now at their core, so too the deeds that they bring
With peace standing right their all along but rarely ever used
For not that many are that strong and now being so confused
Call the Lord's Peace back, trust in the words I'm about to say
Only He can give what you lack, peace comes to those who pray
He will put such peace in your heart and reveal Himself to you
But He wants you to do your part in the knowing of His Name too
Just a note:
In returning to finish this poem, John Lennon's Imagine was playing.
I got the sign right away, like all the others. In fact yesterday in praise
He sent the two Blue Jays from my Psalms 71:8 poem. Back and forth they flew
2, 3, 4 times. Yes signs can be so clear in Adoring His Name, well least that's my experience. Wow as I'm writing this Blue Bird by the Beatles is playing. Never heard that song before in my life. I think He's talking to you all!
Children, pancakes, needlework
An initial draft, a first book
It’s no surprise they came out weird
No matter what pains you took
The first one is the practice one
You need it, to make a start
It’s okay, it won’t be perfect;
We weren’t expecting a work of art
It’ll be squiggly around the edges
Details not well defined
Awkward, clunky, unpolished
Scruffy and unrefined
If you haven’t got the knack yet
It’s understandable, you’re new
You’re learning how to unlock your skills;
What you should and shouldn’t do
You have to make the cringey first one
So your deftness can grow wild
The next attempt will be infinitely better
By B Philippe (a second child)
Delightful moments of sheer mirth
childhood times filled with precious worth
sibling bond of sweet giggles
for pillow’s cottony wiggles.
There was I with my Sister dear
in high spirits of gladness cheer
basking under great freedom-glow
watching downpour of blessings flow.
As an adult who finds gladness
in nature-trip’s peace blissfulness.
going for outdoor merriment
brings to my heart blest enjoyment
With gratitude, I welcome glee
to exude exuberance-spree
while reaching-out by love and grace
rejoicing* in God midst life's race.
*Psalm 35:9 And my soul shall be joyful in the LORD: it shall rejoice in his salvation.
November 9, 2021
Edited on December 30, 2021
1st place, " A STRAND (Dec 30)" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 12/30/2021.
I don't like to think in riddles,
For I'm easily confused.
A nation of cynics, racists and drinkers,
Still wonder why, we can't think like the thinkers.
Of ancient Greece, like Plato and Socrates,
Whose minds were clearly, open and free.
Do you ever think in riddles? And turn time upon its head?
If the mocking bird becomes a killer,
Does it leave the innocent for dead?
Or does it simply do, as nature intended?
The strong will survive, the weaker one we shall eat.
Destroy your baby, to feed its sibling,
This is what, Mother Nature is saying.
To the blinded scholar, of natures laws,
To destroy is to give life, to your daughter or son.
Have you ever had to walk away, from Easy street?
Running away, to simply make a change.
Leaving behind, all of your lost memories,
But you'll be back one day and things will be the same.
What is soul? I don't know,
I think it's the inner being, of everyone.
The centre of your body, your mind and your heart,
The thing that makes you, decide what is art.
The thing that makes you, you and different from all others,
The thing that gives you rhythm, so just dance my brothers.
And sisters around the world, become free inside,
Fight for your right to fight, until the day that you die.
(C)2013 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Form:
Boat Ride
Lead by unseen hand through watery forest,
Drifting silently among sunken glades
Where sun warmed breezes kiss rippled waters,
'Tween quiet banks the living river runs.
Dipping ducks feed and swim in sibling groups
Where passing willows cast their shifting shade.
Fish glide, careless, through their watery world.
The boaters, not heeding, go their way;
Not seeing the aquatic world beneath.
Nor knowing the river's old rhythmic song,
Only the sound of their own strident voices
And sight of their preconfigured time.
Barry Stebbings
21/05/2016
So nice and sweet to remember
Playing with my younger brother
With mom’s constant reminder
To be a good sibling and sister-
As his older sister, she said
Learn to give way, instead
If his mood turns flaring red
Wait patiently, don’t go to bed.
Hug him and speak softly
Share and show fairness lovingly
Use magic words, act humbly
He’ll definitely follow, learns slowly.
Mom’s teachings were effective
No rivalry, rapport was highly achieved
Siblings’ closeness bloomed, heaved
But he passed away so early, I grieved.
If I disobeyed and remained stubborn
He didn’t enjoy life with me…so forlorn
No strong bonds, fun, travels and so on
No joyful memories with loved ones.
Sh!
No needs,
clinical, inept attention,
no noise
We have to hear Robbie.
She understood at a young age
It is not about her
Life revolves around her brother
He rules the family
Sh! No needs.
It is not about you.
What do you want?
We are busy with Robbie now.
Robbie is the one who
Has seizures.
Birthday party invitation?
Not unless he can go too.
Picnic at the museum?
Ask if we can take Robbie.
If not, we are sorry, but you cannot go.
It would not be fair.
What do you want this time?
Can't you see we are stressed?
We are busy!
Why are you always asking?
What, Robbie, honey?
What are you trying to say, sweetie?
In awe that they do not see themselves,
She finally stops asking.
As they hover around their king,
honey-ing him and sweetie-ing him,
she quietly cuts her arms with knives,
wondering if she will bleed.
Forgotten before
She was born,
her life that never was
quietly slips away,
unnoticed...
Sh!
No noise. No needs.
alliterative blank verse
Wanting to show myself worthy -
work was not one of my weapons.
Weakly, I worded my secret --
“I wish of your wealth my fair share.”
Worried and warned by the world’s ways,
father willingly stood my weakness.
He watched steady by the window,
worn weary - waiting my sojourn.
Selfishly wayward and wicked,
soon I was spurned as a wastrel.
I woke from stubborn wantonness
wishing my stomach well-fed.
Wallowing from waste, I started
wobbling forthwith to my father;
sensing his wrath would be severe
wailing, “set me as your servant.”
Waving to me, shoulders stretched wide
weeping he walks t'wards me warmly.
Washing my wounds with his welcome -
my worth did not warrant his smiles.
Witnessing this scene from afar
but wretched and wrestling within,
my sibling wants whys and wherefores,
no wasting words on my welfare.
This story stops short suddenly -
no written word of a war waged -
no wailing, no whining, no woe.
Wonder well, for such is wisdom.