Birthday Sister Poems | Examples
These Birthday Sister poems are examples of Sister poems about Birthday. These are the best examples of Sister Birthday poems written by international poets.
my car rarely leaves the driveway since I retired one year ago today
She drove four hundred miles on Wednesday
Another four hundred miles this morning
That is six hundred and fifty miles more than she’s driven in six months
It was worth it
I got to celebrate my birthday with my identical twin.
I live in Kansas City, Kansas
She lives in Iowa City, Iowa
It is not an easy trip.
But worth it.
Hillary Hears a Who!
Who is an Amma slam?
One who Gives a Damn,
Just ask Melli,
Or Will, Sam or Ellie,
Our Hill who’s True Blue not Glam!
Who has a swell Quill?
Arrows that instill ,
Handfuls of Humor,
Armfuls of Amour,
Our Hil is not Over the Hillery!
Who keeps an All Size Zoo?
Variety of Color & Hue,
Hillary’s Gorillary,
Ants from Aunt Hill aka Hillary,
Empathetic Hillary Hears a Who!
Nori Potpourri!
Pooh brightens by her smile,
All need Nori’s pearl white teeth,
Eye twinkle, greeting dimple,
An elegant yet humble style!
A spiritual treat,
More nutritious than food simple,
Your smile is fuel for a mile!
Warming hearts by friendly heat,
Shelter great, more than a mere temple,
Comforting Tom, Koneh & All as a tropic isle!
Laugh lines tastier than meat,
Brings joy ample,
Free! in Nori’s checkout aisle!
Such is Duchess
Amma to her “Youngens”,
Joie D’Vivre, Raison D’Etre to Dennis,
Source of course to Lucy,
Linds’s famed legs fill long johns,
Artist of Nature, watercolor canvas,
Friends savor her company “Juicy”,
Cherishing, sensing a loss when she’s “Sans”,
Creative yet Linds’s modesty sends,
She’s our Yoga “Loosie Goosy”,
Caring School Nurse hands,
Cure tears without fuss,
Comforting fears as one becomes Twosie,
Not slave to fashion, bucking trends,
Shelter from rain, hurricane crust,
Evoking a true sigh,
May all her rends mend,
In Duchess We Trust,
She brings about others’ soaring high,
Our Birthday Wish for Linds is her fondest dreams blend!
Chaim & Barbara Love Yah!
Hil’s Quill!
Hilary’s anvil is not still,
John is her forge & bellows,
Ellie & Spencer, Melli, Will, Sam & Allie,
Give Hil an answer to all,
Hill Bill’s pinnacle to the cynical below,
Her familial nest is the “Bee’s Knees”,
The light to Hil’s candle,
Deepens Life’s shallows,
Who is Happy? She who in her own Rejoices!
The news leads to thoughts of “Shamble”,
Good is to be listened to, Hallowed,
Abundance is already in our “Juices!”,
Being mindful of Good is often without a Handle,
Create music! Singing is allowed!
Hear your Muses,
Make a wish! Barbara & I scramble,
In blessing our Hil: “May all Tension be Loose!”
When hearing “Growls”, Remain Endowed!
Kristie, 66 Tricks
Maybe with Kendall’s or Eric’s?
Feasting with grandkids & Lee?
Teach ‘em piano Fur Elise antics,
At 66 You’re never an “Oldie”,
But on a higher level, perfecting your act,
Polishing the silver Amma selfie,
Once a travel agent always max,
In helping dreamers realize their trapeze,
Juggling solutions, inventing fixes,
Tick Tocks for some can be scary screams,
We wish for Kristie seconds be kisses,
Of approaching joyful dreams!
Chaim or Rusty & Barbara sing Happy Birthday!
Everything your heart desires,
All that for you life requires,
Can be boiled down to one thing,
That in this gift resides.
Want you not the treasured things,
That others crave - like diamond rings,
And cars and riches and the rest,
But in this gift abides....
A luscious hoard of dazzling hue;
Blinding, lavish and for you...
The symbol of your deepest thirst,
Which this gift satisfies.
No more will your heart palpitate,
Nor will you capitulate;
To trivialities of life,
That this gift overrides.
So go forth quenched and full to brim,
No longer are you the victim.
Of unrequited longing for,
That which this gift provides.
In this your palindromic year,
Despite how rancid you appear.
With finger raised and scowl affront.
We gift this gift besides.
My mother had nine siblings
Two died young
Survivors were four girls, three boys
Girls were tight
Boys not so much
Four lived to be over eighty
I called Uncle Ray to invite him to Mom’s 80th birthday party
A total surprise to her.
Afterwards, she claimed she had not seen him for forty years.
I had no idea when I phoned him they were estranged.
He lived a mere sixty minutes away
He and his wife both came and glared at everybody.
I thought it would be a joyous reunion
It was not
I figure it will be another forty years
Women in my family
Now, only their memories remain
Queens of my humble domain.
My grandma was always there
Warmness in her presence felt,
I’d call her anything but svelte!
She died when I was only fifteen
My mom, a saint, loved like no other
Couldn’t have been a better mother.
Born on my sis’s seventh birthday
We were always exceptionally close
Sister was always the most verbose.
Where would I be today…
Without the guidance of these three
Utmost in my most vivid memory.
FIRST PLACE WINNER
Written June 15, 2022
submitted to "Women in My Family" Poetry Contest
sponsored by Sotto Poet
I dream of a place
walking a road lined with snow laden trees
while fragile snowflakes kiss my lips
and hidden birds sing my birthday song
as tears flow, flow down my cheeks
for this is the day, the day my sister died
_______________
February 1, 2022
Poetry/Verse/Today, the Day
Copyright Protected, ID 02-1427-036-01
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Bite Size Poem, #35
sponsor, Line Gauthier, Judged 02/12/2022
Third Place
When I was twelve, my older sister, Annick, was in med school.
She was dedicated and incorruptible - always studying, always.
I wanted her to spend time with me, I craved her engagement.
I was jealous and mean to her, thinking her uncaring - uninterested in me.
Now, I get it. Now days, I seem to behave like a machine,
I’m busy and unapproachable - forgetting myself in function
and I’m just a lowly undergraduate.
When I think about how hard she must of been working,
I tear up, like someone hearing a sad song on the radio.
Happy birthday Annick
Cicadadoidea Lindseya
1953 marked emergence,
Of Lindsey Elizabeth,
Along with Cicada Brood X.
Now, 4 cycles later,
The school nurse,
Emerges a "Level 68er".
Harmony a la cicada chorus,
Brood X calls "Home",
Maryland & Indiana,
On iridescent wings they roam,
Singing sans piano.
"Linds" likewise travelled.
Snow to Bay to Perdue,
Any knots she unraveled,
As Amma, Audubon of birds blue.
Loved, loving Minchella,
"George's" wings do tell "yah",
Dreams do come true if you act on "REM".
Memories of cicadas can date "yous",
Stay young, savor a poem "Pina Colada,
Any way you choose,
"You say cicayda, I say cicahda"!
Hilary A Corona Birthday
Gown, mask, gloves, only eyes showing,
Intent in her task as Hopkins nurse,
Covid 19 victims owing,
Their repair, escaping fate serious,
To Hill-Bill types not "Status Quo-ing",
Risking danger, putting care first,
Huddle of "1st Class" providers "Pow Wowing",
Pooling talents, to forestall the worst,
Keeping life flowing, families knowing,
Nurses give care in earnest,
Corona row can be tough hoeing,
We're alive to splash not be a tourist,
Hil's pals keep vital signs glowing,
So be "Heroist" in losses "Zeroist"!
I have never celebrated my birthday of February first,
my sister died on the day before and I get too sad;
so, mom and me made the leap to February twenty-nine,
now, I only age every four years or so!
_______________________
February 7, 2020
Poetry/Verse/Taking the Leap
Copyright Protected, ID 20-1223-821-03
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
It's Wine & Brie, When You're 53
Fifty-three's All Jive,
When Mom of the Cosby Five,
Squattin' on Dunellen Drive.
Fifty-three's Germ Free,
Periodic Number in Chemistry,
Of Tincture O'Iodine.
Firstborn at 5 Club Road,
Number 5 of 5 Toads,
Hil's "High 5" Unloads.
Her B'Day's Twelve Twenty-Eight,
Her Gifts, Poverty is Great,
'Cuz Xmas is also Late.
John, Ellie, Sam N'Will,
Fill Hil's Moonshine Still,
Witch's Brew, Loch Raven Swill.
Economist, Health Career,
Researcher Extraordinaire,
And Badminton Player.
To Kill a Bird Mockin',
Hil and Scout Won in '61,
Both Enjoyed Tom-Boy Fun.
This Poem's Far from Great,
'Specially Since It's a Day Late,
But it's Haiku Which Ain't Fishbait!