It's My Sweet Momma

Grief & Grieving
I heard her heart beating,
From there, inside her womb.
She loved me before anyone,
While I was in my first room.

She birthed me and held me
and rocked away my cries.
It was by her, I first knew love,
When I first looked into her eyes.

She raised me and reared me,
Taught me right from wrong.
And showed me, by her example,
How to be strong-woman strong.

She spanked me when needed,
For which I'm no worse for the wear.
She's guided me through trials,
Through sadness and though despair.

She's been my very best friend,
My teacher, and my biggest fan.
And she'll forever be my hero,
For all my remaining lifespan.

But now she's so very tired
And she longs to go Home.
Where she'll hurt never again
As through Heaven's streets, she'll roam.

For that, I'll be so grateful,
She's more than earned her reward.
As once she arrives in Heaven,
She will be fully healed and restored!

And I know this won't be the last time,
I'll see her beautiful face...
For one day, I'll join her,
In that Glorious Place!

But oh, sorrow until then,
My heart will surely be aching,
For it's not just anyone, you see,
It's My Sweet Momma, God's taking.



Author's Notes/Comments: 
I write with the ink of my soul and this has to be the easiest, yet, the absolute hardest poem I've ever written. Cry
I love you with all my heart and soul, Mom. <3
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Broken leg

Broken leg

By jfarrell


I was 7; hit by a car; leg in plaster;

Alone at home, parents at work;

With 50p left me, to get me dinner,

No food in the house.


So, off I go to buy me dinner;

A usually 5 minute walk took ages,

Taking me past my school,

Scared of being told off for being outta school


I get me cup of soup from the baker’s

And return home

And passing my school

I had to stop, to rest, so tired


Spotted by a teacher, dragged into school

Forgot about the day, in school, as I should be.

Arrived home to the mother of all beatings

I’d left the front door open, all that time.


I’m 7, leg in plaster, no food in the house

And no bloody key!

What was I suppose to do?

Lock myself out?



Author's Notes/Comments: 

yep, brains of britain were my parents


Funny little mother

Funny little mother in the morning

She cooks and cleans and frets all day

She is a funny little mother in the morning


Funny little father

Funny little father in the evening

He drinks and stinks and swears all day

He is a funny little father in the evening


Funny little parents

Funny little parents all day

They are funny little parents all day


Author's Notes/Comments: 

Inspired by reflection

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my father is a fortified man 
with dark, verdant eyes 
that shame the forest moss
that burn harsh and cold
seeing through deception 
honest, stern, but fair

my mother is a gentle woman
with soft, cerulean eyes 
that transcend the clearest sea
that glow bright and warm 
always saying the right thing 
tolerant, caring, but unwavering 

and I was born with that azure gaze 
though mine is not same 
on half my left eye
a drop of my father's jade 
and so I see the world 
as an even balance 
through both my parents eyes

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Our parents!

our parents! 2011



our parents wern't rich but we didnt go with out

a roof over our heads we had with out a doubt

the laundry was hung to dry on the hill

we never went hungry our bellys they'ed fill

our mother was special and us kids knew it was so

she would sacrafic her needs so we would all grow

and make us all mind with a kind but firm hand

when we'd disrespect she'd take a firm stand

our dad was the greatest our souls he would care

take us to church and pray with us there

kept us all safe he woud watch us all grow

never leave us alone he loved us all so

we wish they were around we miss them so dear

up to heaven they went to be with god there

but miss them we do we we wish they were here still

even thou time passes there love never will.

dedicated to our parents your love and care made us who we are today

we love you both always and you will never be forgotten



Author's Notes/Comments: 

this one is the second poem i wrote i wanted to tell others about my parents it was writen 2 years after my dad passed away i loved writing this poem i hope you like it


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Hit or miss, it is better to have swung than not,

He would often say to me in my childhood.

Always put forth your absolute all in any effort,

she would tell me after a tough game.

These axioms they provided me, no charge.

It’s ironic, but also fitting in retrospect isn’t it?

That the wisdom they handed out for free,

turned out to be the most invaluable gift they gave.






Author's Notes/Comments: 

Short and sweet, but to the point like a parent.

View sky's Full Portfolio

Keeps me warm

Knees so weak-

But full of power.

Glances through and through-

Tears wore out.

He's tall as a tower-

His grasp pulls me through.

Through, this hurricane.


Crashing waves would pull me under-

But his love gives me strength.

Maybe I should run,

Run for cover.

But his palms keep me safe.

Through, this hurt and pain.


I might be lost in this fire-

But I feel peace and warmth.

One deep breath-

Oceans sweep and swept.

Alone, but not alone.

Through, this hurricane.


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The Secret's Out



the glistening dew upon

the petals of a rose,

and the


mourning sun



the caustic yet subtle pungency

of sandalwood twirling past my nares



the forest leaves underfoot


a newborn baby's wail

and walls

and walls

of silence


and layers

of denial


shame inflicted

love constricted


tightly wound 

to cover the 

pain of the past


making it last







with dimestore favorites in an old shoebox

my kept treasures

after your funeral


and memories that you left

it feels so senseless






your burning passion




love of country

that was


that gaping bore,

carved into the very core of your soul...

...from war




the depth of compassion in the heart

of a nine year old

waking in the night 

to the sound of



sneaking down the stairs

peering through the railing

the clenched fists pressed tightly to eyes

desperation overflowing

overwhelming feelings 

of sorrow

of shame

of anger

of helplessness





that brandished holes

upon my heart

to watch you

hide your turmoil

 in the darkness of the night



and now

you are gone


  you never knew...

I saw!

you never knew

I felt it too!




Author's Notes/Comments: 

Unresolved grief seen and felt through the eyes and heart of a child, and lingering memories it leaves.

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no regrets



who cares if there 

are flowers on my corpse 

if I'm dead?

if love is your intent

then bring me

some good memories

and things you learned 

to make your life easier

and more worth living.

wrap it up in a rusted coffee can

from some dark alley where babies lie in dumpsters

and place it somewhere all can see and be comforted

that someone thought about them, and cared

about why their lives ended, and tried to understand

not to punish, but to prevent it.


give me life in my death,

and not sorrow for

what you forgot to do

or not do, to prevent 

yourself from being hurt

on the day I leave here.

funerals are for the ones who are left here,

because the only thing I intend 

to leave you after material possessions

are divied out,

is the same thing since the day 

I first looked in your eyes,

the gratitude for having shared moments together.

we have all been dying since the day we were born,

and if we arrive at our final resting place in peace,

and not at the hands of violence,

then we have been granted more than enough

to say we have been blessed.

I spend my days now thinking what a beautiful soul you are.


5:35 PM 8/4/2013 ©

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