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Nicole Engle Poem
She picks up every stained t-shirt,
takes out the trash,
sweeps up the dirt.
She washes every dirty dish,
but might forget
to feed the fish.
She's sure the girls are always fed
and gives them 'mooches
before bed.
She lets them know that it's no joke
when the tub is pink
and the floor is soaked.
This mommy's kiss can heal boo-boo's;
it dries up tears
and cures the flu.
They know that monsters do no harm
to little girls
in mommy's arms.
She'd give them the world if she could
and always tries
when tips are good.
Her body aches at her shift's end
but still finds time
to play pretend.
She's everything I hope to be
when my own kids
look up to me.
The world could never be so mean
if every mom
was like Charlene.
Copyright © Nicole Engle | Year Posted 2011
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Details |
Nicole Engle Poem
I don't know how
I should begin
the truth about
this pain within.
It stings to breathe;
it smarts to grin.
This wretched fight
I cannot win.
It burns to laugh;
it aches to weep.
The only painless thing
is sleep.
So sleep I will,
long as I can,
and when I awake
I'll bleed again.
And on, and on,
until I find
a way to sleep
most all the time.
One-third my years
is not enough
to slake the ache
that makes life tough.
So each daybreak,
with groan and sigh,
I rise to find
night has passed by.
The beast of ages
lies under my bed,
stretching his claws
and rearing his head.
He's balefully scheming
and plotting away
the damage he'll do
with each passing day.
So helpless and hopeless
I write this to tell
you don't have to die
to experience hell.
Copyright © Nicole Engle | Year Posted 2011
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Details |
Nicole Engle Poem
Teach me,
Show me,
Lead me,
Mold me.
Lift me,
Love me,
Help me,
Hold me.
Save me,
Send me,
Guide me,
Choose me.
Push me,
Fill me,
Want me,
Use me.
Copyright © Nicole Engle | Year Posted 2012
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