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Best Poems Written by Deborah Petriscak

Below are the all-time best Deborah Petriscak poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Child of Song

Child of Song

You are my love child, child of song.
Sweet surprise when all the stars were perfectly aligned
And happiness was that white picket fence.
I thought you were my last.

So I named you for contentment.
Butterscotch sunlight, crystal beads, rainbows, toast and jam
Gypsy moments wrapped in a fuzzy robe.
I sang you lullabies.

Little dark girl you grew too fast.
In beauty and spirit, my wild child, my sparkle child
Not delicate, (that was a ruse), but strong.
My image only better.

Now seasons pass and change has come.
Child-woman, daughter-friend, looking forward, holding back
Trembling at the brink of future choices.
Go on.  I will be here.


(c) 2002

Copyright © Deborah Petriscak | Year Posted 2019



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Skyler

Skyler

Little boy grown large, are you leaving me?
Where is my companion of those calmer days of motherhood
When I finally had the rhythm down enough
And could enjoy the magic of the world
 through toddler eyes
And the creative logic
 of the 3-year-old mind
And lunches at McDonalds?

Skyler
S-C-H-U-Y-L-E-R, 
Scholar, 
Professor,
 Master of minutiae, 
Watching Discovery Channel and History Channel 
And quoting dialog in entirety.
Working hard to mask the serious
 with the casual.

Charming, charmer, charmed, 
my ray of sunshine.
Moody but never brooding 
and quick to beam that grin, 
And drape one large arm 
over my shoulder
In good-humored tolerance of maternal foible.

Others see the Adonis and draw to you
 like bees to honey.
They sense what I have always known.
 I see the little boy
 gentle hearted, strong and true.
The spirit who whispered his name as I slept
And who blesses my life with the joy that is you.


(c) 2004

Copyright © Deborah Petriscak | Year Posted 2019

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This I Know

This I know -
He will love me
As I love him
And we shall reap
And sow and reap again
The fruits of our love.

We shall be as one
As one with the night
That whispers softly in my ears
As one with the day
That showers gold blessings on my face.

We shall be as balm is to the wound
Together side by side,
With joy at each new waking day
And whisper good morning
Into each other's sleepy ears.

This I know -
As I see his face beside me
Tousled and dreamy with sleep
Side by side we shall remain
My lover and me.

(c) 1976

Copyright © Deborah Petriscak | Year Posted 2019

Details | Deborah Petriscak Poem

Home

I lie here spooned against you in the dark, my arm draped across your softness, but I remember those lean and muscled days – do you remember mine? 
How is it now so many years past that vibrant heat of youth, when we made our promises and thought we knew, we only thought we knew . . .
 
We never guessed at what lay in store: those nights of desperate pleading. The worried dawns and stressed out days. 
And certainly not the anguish of betrayal or the loneliness inside that very thing that was meant to keep us company. 
 
But neither did we anticipate the sweetness of enduring, the compassion in forgiving the very humanity of what was once exalted and adored. 
The plinth and its burden (or the burden that was the plinth) long fallen and yet still precious. 
The perfection in acceptance of the imperfect.
 
What is here is entirely new; produced from tears and laughter; bitterness and joy. Something forged from the hard, hard work of making it work. 
It isn’t what we thought it would be and we are not who we once were, but I remember. 
And even in this unexpected unmapped and uncharted territory,
You still feel like home.

(c)
10/2016

Copyright © Deborah Petriscak | Year Posted 2019

Details | Deborah Petriscak Poem

To My Daughter

To My Daughter

Daughter mine, heart of hearts
What complex wonders lie within
One sweet soul and mind grown
Strong and righteous in her stance.

If I could but take thy pains and burdens
Upon my shoulders; if I could but straighten every crooked path;
But oh how wondrous thy valiant strivings have made thee
And no mother could ask for more than that.

Ever brighter, ever stronger
Take my torch and carry  on.
A mother’s heart is not her own, but lies
Within her daughter’s hand.


(c) 2000

Copyright © Deborah Petriscak | Year Posted 2019




Book: Shattered Sighs