Children

Missing Passenger

Vows taken on a crisp Saturday afternoon in September,
You wore a velveteen black suit, and me and my cream colored lace,
We swirled through the park like doves in flight,
Everything was oh...so right!

 

That first year, you held me in the rocking chair your mother gave us,
No arms had ever given me such peace and comfort,
Your gentle kisses to my neck and ears,
Three long blissful and beautiful years before our first born.

 

Then the security of all we could have asked for,
The nights of laughter and after dinner rides to the custard stand,
You in your jovial disposition and me with my coy school-like charm,
And then home, to snuggle together on the couch.

 

The tenth year was busier after our daughter was born,
I could not have chosen a better father for our children,
But the rocking chair needed some repair,
I missed our snuggles we used to share in the days of old.

 

You always made a point of reminding me about how you loved those days,
I'd kid you about your extra pounds ruining the dowels under the seat,
But in our own way, the memory savored, lasted into our 25th anniversary,
Still, every few months I would beg you to fix it.

 

Now that the children are grown and come to visit,
I sometimes tell them how you used to hold me in that rocker,
They smile with the same tenderness back at me,
And I see your twenty year old charm in their eyes again.

 

One day, a few months after the funeral,
I took a seat alone in the chair when I came home,
Rickety now, the wood is dried and brittle,
I hardly can imagine those days were real.

 

The days are getting longer, it seems, and many times I wonder
Where you are, maybe sitting on a crescent moon, gazing at the stars,
I have gained so many beautiful memories from the life we shared,
And I still wish you'd fix this rocking chair.

 

 

 

10:19 PM 4/28/2013 ©

Author's Notes/Comments: 

About solid marriages.

 

I have to be more careful copying and pasting...at first I only got half of the poem!

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Sick Ritual

As fast as the sun seems to come up, and go down,
Integument lost, now bones becoming exposed,
Heart slows down, sniffing dust and dirt up your nose,
Tears have dried, and life fading fast,
A drink of warm water might help you get past
This execution delivered by thoughtless tradition.

 

We cry your tears for you child,
But we bow to our own submission,
The price love is asking,
Seems won't come to fruition.

 

Sweet, sweet baby your prison cell you found,
Mama's at work, Daddy's nowhere to be found,
We know you were starving for love when you lost your mind,
We never meant this for you...to be left behind,
Everyone's making their own stories about you,
How you shot up the school, and left only a few,
This other hunger goes unnoticed when a belly is full,
The love that you needed, we see now, had grown dull.

 

We cry your tears for you child,
But we bow to our own submission,
The price love is asking,
Seems won't come to fruition.

 

We're starving the children,
We're starving ourselves,
All along on this road, have we paved this pathway to hell?
How do we change it? A penny at a time?
Is the tithe not enough? Perhaps we've created this crime?
Where did we falter along the righteous way?
Can we ever correct our mistakes? Can we say?

 

We cry your tears for you child,
But we bow to our own submission,
The price love is asking,
Seems won't come to fruition.

 

Beautiful minds frought with beautiful dreams,
Beautiful failures that tear at the seams,
In the midst of discoveries, this age of lament,
Maybe it's time we see clear, and repent?
Maybe if we all looked on the inside,
We could turn this around and not run, fight, or hide?
Some lack nutrition so long that it's foreign to their eyes,
Others lack understanding...and when it's given, do not even recognise,
One child bears a smile from a small morsel of food,
The other can't smile, unless he's being rude.

 

Sweet little babies, made from heaven above,
Perhaps the step missing

When we climbed 'Maslow's Scale' is... love.

 

 

10:07 PM 4/20/2013 ©

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Just some thoughts on the importance of teaching love and authenticity to children and each other. Life is beautiful when we cherish what we feel with our hearts and not our hands. There is hope and promise in the future if we use our knowledge to benefit things of the spirit in ourselves and our children.

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When Children Meet Pirates

 

I was given the job

by the employer from Hell

of nanny to two girls

called Nancy and Belle.

 

Their father was a crook,

I knew from the start,

he was gluttonous and vile,

but cunning and smart.

 

He knew nothing of love,

and had only one ambition,

to torture the Kingdom's pirates

until they fell into submission.

 

Despite their father's flaws,

the girls were utter joys,

Although Belle was a little stubborn,

And made an awful lot of noise,

 

See, I was employed for a reason,

I found out on my first day.

The girls were intrigued by a forest,

and I was not to let them stray.

 

The Bloodcrow Forest was scary,

and huge and quite close by,

And the rumour in the city was

that Pirates were camping inside.

 

See, they were after something,

and my employer, Mr Pesh,

had let slip that he was responsible

for a catastrophic mess.

 

Mr Pesh was man of law,

and several months ago,

had captures eleven pirates,

and put their severed heads on show.

 

The pirates' rage was worrying

to men like Mr Pesh,

more so because his daughters,

longed to see Pirates in the flesh.

 

So I tried for months to control them,

but Belle could not be tamed,

she'd always dreamt of meeting Pirates,

My bedtime stories were to blame...

 

Before I could stop her,

she escaped in the dead of night,

We feared she might be murdered,

to her sister's cruel delight.

 

I'd neglected mute little Nancy

and failed to see her tears,

Belle had bullied her sister

and become the subject of all her fears.

 

So Nancy didn't care

whether Belle had lived or died,

but I still ran into the forest

and screamed for her to hide.

 

I rescued twelve-year-old Belle,

who was surprisingly calm.

She said she loved the Pirate camp,

and that the Pirates meant no harm.

 

I told her this was rubbish,

and she'd heard a bunch of lies,

so she screamed and me and kicked my leg

and ran to her room and cried.

 

The following morning saw a terror,

in the form of a Pirate siege,

which began in the Castle's Courtyard

while King Ferdinand made a speech.


Mr Pesh was a raging bull

and punched his daughter in the eye,

As it was Belle who told the Pirates

that he'd wanted more to die,

 

As I ran to safe-guard Nancy,

I watched a Pirate approach poor Belle,

who was being beaten by her father

and being told to rot in Hell.

 

The Pirate wrenched dear Belle aside

and brandished a glistening sword

and plunged it into her father's chest

until he lay dead on the floor.

 

I was relieved that Belle was safe,

but she clasped a Pirate's hand

and at first I was bewildered but then

I saw her smile expand.

 

Could it be that she had met him

during her escapade in the woods?

Could he possibly have loved her?

Could a pirate turn out to be good?

 

I had more important things on my mind though,

All around me, townsfolk were screaming.

I ran, shielding Nancy

from the buildings that were burning.

 

Through all the smoke and licking flames,

we searched for the Pirate and Belle,

we thought we saw them running,

but it was difficult to tell.

 

But soon the smoke began to clear

as did the panic in my head,

and we found Belle and the Pirate

hiding near the Forest's edge.

 

"This is John Lefevre" Belle told me.

"We're in love and I'm running away.

I'm going with him on the Pirate Ship

To find treasure on some exotic bay."

 

Naturally I was furious

and I punched Lefevre in the face

I begged Belle to come with me and Nancy

to some new and happier place.

Of course, she refused my offer.

Love is blinding and harming and alarming.

She wanted adventure and excitement and her Pirate,

but her sister simply needed re-homing.

 

Eventually, Lefevre surrendered

and passed me his young lover's hand.

Belle cried all the way to the station,

where we left for Featherjet Land.

 

We were happy for a while,

me as mother in a cute little cottage.

I got a job as a local teacher

and the girls became my world.

 

But one morning before I served breakfast,

I heard Nancy shriek Belle' name.

Belle had fled in search of her Pirate

and Nancy was never the same.

 

My story does not end here,

neither does Nancy's and neither does Belle's,

So I'll leave it here and collect my memories

So that next time, I have more stories to tell. 

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Sparklers

Amidst the fertile loam of teenage angst, the battling suffragist,
Passion rages, tears cried in vain,

And budding futures bright, begin to fill the pages,
But feelings never felt in wholeness, become habit to the thorn,
A tender heart beguiled and blamed, brings bitterness and scorn.

They wander down the road where other travelers pass them by,
Without a word, no stories heard, of when or where, or why,
The fragments of what could have been are hardly ever seen,
Tied in knots, the path is charted, the soul in silence keens.

The years they pass with savage blunder, utter wrecklessness,
With hollow heart and acrid thoughts ensued, no niche to rest,
A pocket full of wonder that cannot afford to dream,
A misdirected vessel cursed with the odds it will careen.

But if by chance a passer-by is sensitive to light,
The splintered pieces of a soul like this could shine, despite,
One second of compassion can determine years to come,
One smile can start a caring flame,

Reviving some old pleasantries and bringing back

A blithesome nature to a life derailed by rejection.

Practice kindness all your life, don't underestimate,
Be not stingy with your heart, or you'll reap second rate,
You'll reap what you sow and get back as you give,
And just how much means little when you've inspired a life to live.

 

 

Copyright 2013 ©

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A poem about some of what authentic kindness and compassion can do.

Sugar Daddy

 

 

 

Sunday, March 24, 2013

WRITTEN BY TG GREEN

 

 

 

                                                                                                                                                           

 

 

 

He came in all flashy
He sat down in room with Papa
He pointed at me
I want her
cash was exchanged
I cried
Know one listened
He drove me to a Hotel
I was so scared
In the room...he took me
Took my innocence..
I wasn't alone he had more girls
Time flew by...
Daddy lent us out...to strangers
the strangers raped us
I started to feel sick
was taken to the doctor
doctor asked if I used protection
he washed his hands
He said you have AIDS
Where did you catch it from?
Daddy?
Whats your daddy's name?
Sugar Daddy
 

                                                                                                                                                                     

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This was written in memory of those lost around the world from sex trade.

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Children Of The Earth

Squandered without consideration,
A heartless act of bitter vengeance at the world,
Feeling rejected, ejected from familiarity,
Contemptuous and scorned younglings,
Unarmed and void of forbearance,
Becoming a vacuum for anguish without release,
And a mirror of community neglect,
Reflection of parental confusion and malevolence,
Rancid energy bouncing out and back again,
Like a lifelong game of handball with societal ills,
Defective skills, knowing no better,
Seeking no end, with peace undefined,
Due to taking root in a life unkind,
What will grow in this wasteland?
Putrid soil of chemical waste,
Splintered shreads of nothingness,

Spitefully believed to be gods,
Dreams, falling to ash like rotted flesh,
The shells of what once sustained hope,
Lying in the cocoon of human ignorance,
And no returns of virtues past,
For the sake of reaping a fool's gold.

 

© 2013

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This poem is about today's youth.

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Ignorance

Whimpering sighs,

Soulful eyes,

Disgrace is clearly seen,

Serene in trance,

Limping by, silent...

In a dream.

Welts and bruises decorate,

Regret and shame,

"So second rate",

She smiles....

      ....and I, the passerby.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

this is about abuse and how it is so often silent and ignored

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Endangered Species

I traveled miles out of town to see your face today,

Drove past the city limits through the desert far away,

Surrounded by barbed wire and a K-9 crew or two,

I wondered would I meet Mr. Houdini here?…or you?

You stood behind a piece of glass that stifled every word,

It didn’t matter though, the plea for help could still be heard.

The room was filled with people shouting loudly through the glass,

I even heard a woman tell her friend to "Kiss my a-s!".

Two hours passed too quickly and it hurt to say goodbye,

And as I left I winked as if to say, "See, I won’t cry".

I’ll stand beside you always with each letter that I write,

I know we’ll figure out how we’ll get through each lonely night.

The part that really gets me is the way we build in space,

But where are all the brains to help reform our HUMAN RACE?

We teach the kids by actions we display to shoot and kill,

Then lock them up, ignore them, and complain about the bill.

It’s "rehabilitation" at it’s best here at the zoo,

And a label of psychosis makes a tort hard to pursue.

The workers only give a damn about their lazy hides,

At best they blame the inmate’s past, not really look inside.

"Who cares about some kid who got pissed off and shot the block!!

We’ll just give him some lithium and blame it on hard rock!!

Just watch your back and get the check, that’s all that we can do,

For people locked away in super-max like SMU."

Abuse of all this power will be sure to make life worse,

Unless we conquer fears of ones who feed into this curse.

The men who claim it’s their right to judge that a single life,

Could possibly be worth no more than all this time in strife,

They need to learn a lesson ‘bout how wrong a "right" can be

When men abuse their right to power close their eyes, refuse to see.

I’ll see you here again and pray each night and every day,

Don’t worry ‘bout my love ‘cause it won’t ever go away,

But if by chance we drift apart I’ll hold this memory dear,

It’s taught me that with lack of love all humans know….

…….is fear.

Copyright © 2002 Liz Peterson-Braveheart

Author's Notes/Comments: 

About having a loved one in a super max prison.

Musical Arrangement

I can taste the sound of laughter,

Like molasses on my tongue,

Like the sun is heard in chorus,

Childlike and full of fun,

When I touch the sight of scarlet,

It feels smooth against my skin,

And the smell of fresh pink hyacinth,

Hangs noodles down my chin.

A snowflake softly graces the wind,

A raindrop meets a lake,

If synesthesia ruled the world,

We might all be chocolate cake.

 

© 2012

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