We were always close together
As the house we had was small.
Family meals there knit a tether,
And precious voices filled the halls.
The dog was in and out of course
And she surely didn’t mind
To steal away the peace by force
As willing actors were in line.
We attended to each other then
Without attention to a phone
We laughed and loved back when
No one really was alone.
When one hurt, the family knew
We learned to “sense” each other’s mood.
When filled with joy or sometimes blue
Our little house let grace give room.
Empathy was tutored there
Along with patience and resolve.
There was little space to spare
As every inch was shared by all.
Familiar creaks and squeaky floors,
Pillow wars and popcorn nights.
Kids roamed everywhere outdoors
And made it home by dinner time.
We’re spread out now by the miles
I miss their presence and the nearness.
I miss my parents, meals and smiles
And count the blessings that were near us.
My Thought On Life
Miracle Man
7/10/2024
Life was meant to be a journey of unknown steps,
but for many, death comes before first footsteps.
Unwanted by a mother, some are sentenced to death,
an innocent life claimed before it’s first breath.
Claudia Elezibeth Benzio
Written: by Tom Wright
We never met little Claudia face to face,
But she gave hope to our lives for a time.
A monthly letter or picture she might trace,
Was enough to make our lives quite sublime.
The Orphanage tutored her in English preparing,
For the day we both felt sure would come.
That this little life would our lives soon be sharing,
Only to learn that things would soon turn glum.
For soon, her correspondence suddenly stopped,
A living mother had returned with prior claim.
Thus slaying the plans we had to soon adopt,
I've prayed the loss we felt was Claudia's gain.
Seven decades and going strong
swimming the currents of Life on song,
with ease and elegance he swims
gold medals in galore he wins,
In Physics and Maths he is wired
of its energy and speed, never is he tired,
in the game of chess he will checkmate
yet in Life he is your choicest mate,
he scales the mountains in his hikes
maybe this passion guides his Life and likes,
he teaches and shapes the lives’ of many
making each one of us tutored look shiny,
he is our family’s only Chartered Accountant
we are proud of all his Life’s accomplishment.
Consider the practice of pedagogy.
Sounds less like a noble profession,
And more like a pervert’s kinky fetish,
A groomer’s form of fieldcraft.
Socrates taught Plato,
Just as Shumann mentored Brahms.
Einstein tutored Oppenheimer,
And so inspired those bombs.
When a student has mastered a subject,
Does the teacher proclaim it success?
Or is there regret in awareness
Of the genie set loose on the world?
A common fate befalls all men,
Ere since the fall in fair Eden.
Whether dirt poor or filthy rich,
all men end up in the same ditch.
The common fate has no regard,
for the respected or blackguard.
Be he a peasant or a prince,
the common fate makes all men wince.
The educated and the fool,
both must face the common ghoul.
Fate does not tutored men respect
by it, all mortal men are wrecked.
The common fate strikes every race,
stalks everyone in every place.
No matter where men run or hide,
the common fate do them betide.
The common fate, I hope you see,
renders all men of one degree.
Some are not high and others low,
For in death all to one place go.
There is a cure for the common fate.
It is free to all and has no rate.
Jesus God’s Son died for you and me,
So that we can live eternally.
Accept the cure while you are alive
before fate takes you for the dive.
Do not delay, the hour is late.
Jesus is waiting at your heart’s gate.
"Taking away my cell phone would be as painful as being neutered."
~ by poet
Twenty years ago, no one would have predicted
that to cell phones, the world would become addicted.
We text instead of calling, though we have the choice.
I barely remember the sound of my child's voice!
Often, I forget where I've left my darn phone.
Without a text notification, I feel very much alone.
It's part of my anatomy that I should have neutered,
a simple surgical procedure that should be tutored.
Remove it from my hand with a scapel or a knife.
Can I survive without it? It's instrumental to my life!
Cutting it off would be an act of painful castration.
Maybe a lobotomy instead of neutering amputation?
I won't promise that if it's done, it would be a cure.
If it's no longer attached to me, how will I endure
not being able to keep in touch with my best friend,
and how long does it take for neutered scars to mend?
Poetry Soup
Organizing contests in a discreet manner
Engaging its members in time-based contests
Training them in the art of poetry
Raising deeply rooted poets
Yet yielding themselves to be tutored
Such a family of poets I'm glad to belong
Optimizing every opportunity given
Upgrading myself as I journey on
Pursuing my purpose and calling
August 30, 2022.
Where I am probing a tranquil night
I find you there in the depth of skies
Among shiny stars, my beloved sight,
Endearing as ever to gratified eyes.
You are my smile, my forever pride,
On journey of life, you are my guide,
You’re my treasure, you’re my rock,
In your footsteps, I endeavor to walk.
Oh! when I ached, how you too cried,
An affectionate presence by my side
Cheering every feat since I was a child,
With my happiness how you too smiled.
In tenebrous times, you were our light,
When we encountered stormy shore,
In face of danger you were the knight
While enduring gusty seasons of yore.
You tutored me on right from wrong,
Those blessings of verity I pass along
As your love brightens arc of my dawn
On halo eternal, though you are gone.
In albums of past my memories revive,
Cherish and thrive, as if you are alive,
For undying is love so angelic and true,
Rekindling bond anew, thinking of you.
May 3, 2022
Placed 1st: A Mother’s Love, Tributes Of Love
For Mother’s Day Poetry Contest
Sponsor: B J Legros Kelley
Ideal instructor, shows integrity, impact in instruction.
5/2/2022
* Deuteronomy 32:2
May my teaching drop as the rain, my speech distill as the dew, like gentle rain upon the tender grass, and like showers upon the herb.
Work Perspective Monoku Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Beata Agustin
National Teacher Day is observed on the first Tuesday of the first full week of May (May 3) and we’re more than ready to show our appreciation to those who have taught us. Everyone has had that favorite teacher that has helped inspire them. This day meant to honor them was actually made by a teacher. None other than First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt herself. Eleanor Roosevelt was more than Franklin D. Roosevelt’s wife, she has a history of civic duty and was an advocate for fellow teachers. Her love for education began at a young age when she was privately tutored and encouraged by her aunt Anna “Barnie” Roosevelt. No matter how high she rose on the social ladder, she never forgot where she came from.
slaves around me, slaves everywhere,
I am myself a slave, slave to scares.
bound by chains unseen,
in prisons without walls,
enslaved by beliefs from births,
tutored to worship,
trained to fear,
insecurities of life, in ever peril of death,
slaves we are, to centuries of lies!
branded by hot irons of culture,
whipped by rules of social laws,
hand fed as reward for obedience,
persecuted for insolence,
slaves we are, slaves all of us!
born free, born free, naked and free,
but slaves within weeks with a name,
a religion to tow, a world to know,
freedom lost, slavery begins,
at the very threshold of school with education!
the books are false,
they do not teach my soul,
only the body to work and be a slave,
why kneel in fear? in fear of God?
when I have not sinned,
I have hardly lived at all!!
Slaves at work, slaves in marriage,
through childhood, to the end,
we have created a purgatory of our own!
what of human rights?
if we are just allowed to be human,
that would be right!
Written 05 December 2021
Honourable mention
Human rights poetry contest
Robert James Liguori sponsored
His Master’s Voice Radio on a shelf,
only source of entertainment we had,
a brother, three sisters parents and self,
listening to top hits, was then a fad!
those Good old days- we were so glad!
no television to keep us for hours,
evening was for reading tutored by dad,
by nine were sleepy right under covers,
I was looked after as was youngest lad!
those Good old days- we were so glad!
toothpaste we chose by its nice taste and smell,
proud of our toothbrush like it was iPad,
was irrelevant if it cleaned teeth well,
we brushed teeth so mother wouldn’t be mad!
those Good old days- we were so glad!
beginning of school was most joyous day,
although end of holidays made us sad,
we had new clothes, new shoes, new friends to play,
in just one week we knew good friends from bad,
those Good old days- we were so glad!
1st placement
Mystic Rose Rose sponsored
Written 15/01/2021
The Good old days
20 lines with ababb rhyme pattern
10, 10,10,10,8 syllables each stanza
I have removed the last stanza to fit the competition rules.
I do not have a
common last name
(inherited from my
father), but I'm simple as
My mother's Silva ...
I am proud of that
I'm a sort of people ...
I'm not tutored
by anyone,
not ridden by
knights,
I am from the light of radiance,
I'm not from twilight,
I'm Paraíba, not from
rough land ...
I'm Portugal ...!
I'm an enlightenment but
i am not french,
i love beatles but
I am not English...
I’m not "cool",
I'm a bridge, I'm not
nihilist, I'm Kant ...
I am Brazilian
with a beach flavor,
French with taste of champagne,
I Love Arab woman who smell
camphor, oriental
that perfume of peach ...
Anyone who wants to be a friend
never come to me with subterfuge,
come with sincere friendship,
not with real state or latifundium...
My property is not
of this world ... my kingdom
it's much deeper, large as
unlimited universe ...!
================
I am an African boy
I was carved from the chocolate melanin of the African soil
Tutored under the iroko tree by her grand sages
Baptised in the palm wine of Bomi hills
I am an African boy
I am an African boy
I was creamed with the coconut oil from cape coast
Explored the shores of the Atlantic Ocean
Taught to walk on the golden sand of the Sahara
I am an African boy
I am an African boy
I was maltreated for my hospitality
Humiliated for my humility
Discriminated for the color of my skin
But I remain the pride of my race
I am an African boy
I am an African boy
I am not the one written in the history books of the colonist
neither their so called ‘lesser being’
I am the best and only version of me
I am an African boy
I am an African boy
I am the brother of Cesaire and Senghor
Cousin of Diop, nephew of Nkrumah
Grandson of Blyden
I stand for black pride in the world today
I am an African boy
I am writing this poem for you today
Can’t believe you have really gone away
You were a beautiful person with a kind soul
It’s so difficult to say goodbye and let you go
Your laugh was infectious, your spirit always warm
You could put out family fires and calm the storms
Fond memories with you flood my mind, make me smile
I Remember when you tutored me, going the extra mile
I will cherish memories of our holiday celebrations
You always made them fun and special occasions
You are at peace now; I know it was your time to part
Memories of you Uncle Walt, I will hold close to my heart
It is said a rolling stone
gathers no moss.
I disagree, I move on,
I'm my own boss.
Learning from a bit of this,
from a pinch of that,
to all the Jacks of All Trades
I gladly tip my hat.
Inspired by every win,
tutored by every loss,
So far, I've survived Life's
roll, yaw and toss!
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