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Rapunzel

A woman
who loves a woman
is forever young.
The mentor
and the student
feed off each other.
Many a girl
had an old aunt
who locked her in the study
to keep the boys away.
They would play rummy
or lie on the couch
and touch and touch.
Old breast against young breast…
Let your dress fall down your shoulder,
come touch a copy of you
for I am at the mercy of rain,
for I have left the three Christs of Ypsilanti
for I have left the long naps of Ann Arbor
and the church spires have turned to stumps.
The sea bangs into my cloister
for the politicians are dying,
and dying so hold me, my young dear,
hold me…
The yellow rose will turn to cinder
and New York City will fall in
before we are done so hold me,
my young dear, hold me.
Put your pale arms around my neck.
Let me hold your heart like a flower
lest it bloom and collapse.
Give me your skin
as sheer as a cobweb,
let me open it up
and listen in and scoop out the dark.
Give me your nether lips
all puffy with their art
and I will give you angel fire in return.
We are two clouds
glistening in the bottle glass.
We are two birds
washing in the same mirror.
We were fair game
but we have kept out of the cesspool.
We are strong.
We are the good ones.
Do not discover us
for we lie together all in green
like pond weeds.
Hold me, my young dear, hold me.
They touch their delicate watches
one at a time.
They dance to the lute
two at a time.
They are as tender as bog moss.
They play mother-me-do
all day.
A woman
who loves a woman
is forever young.
Once there was a witch's garden
more beautiful than Eve's
with carrots growing like little fish,
with many tomatoes rich as frogs,
onions as ingrown as hearts,
the squash singing like a dolphin
and one patch given over wholly to magic -
rampion, a kind of salad root
a kind of harebell more potent than penicillin,
growing leaf by leaf, skin by skin.
as rapt and as fluid as Isadoran Duncan.
However the witch's garden was kept locked
and each day a woman who was with child
looked upon the rampion wildly,
fancying that she would die
if she could not have it.
Her husband feared for her welfare
and thus climbed into the garden
to fetch the life-giving tubers.
Ah ha, cried the witch,
whose proper name was Mother Gothel,
you are a thief and now you will die.
However they made a trade,
typical enough in those times.
He promised his child to Mother Gothel
so of course when it was born
she took the child away with her.
She gave the child the name Rapunzel,
another name for the life-giving rampion.
Because Rapunzel was a beautiful girl
Mother Gothel treasured her beyond all things.
As she grew older Mother Gothel thought:
None but I will ever see her or touch her.
She locked her in a tow without a door
or a staircase. It had only a high window.
When the witch wanted to enter she cried'
Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair.
Rapunzel's hair fell to the ground like a rainbow.
It was as strong as a dandelion
and as strong as a dog leash.
Hand over hand she shinnied up
the hair like a sailor
and there in the stone-cold room,
as cold as a museum,
Mother Gothel cried:
Hold me, my young dear, hold me,
and thus they played mother-me-do.
Years later a prince came by
and heard Rapunzel singing her loneliness.
That song pierced his heart like a valentine
but he could find no way to get to her.
Like a chameleon he hid himself among the trees
and watched the witch ascend the swinging hair.
The next day he himself called out:
Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair,
and thus they met and he declared his love.
What is this beast, she thought,
with muscles on his arms
like a bag of snakes?
What is this moss on his legs?
What prickly plant grows on his cheeks?
What is this voice as deep as a dog?
Yet he dazzled her with his answers.
Yet he dazzled her with his dancing stick.
They lay together upon the yellowy threads,
swimming through them
like minnows through kelp
and they sang out benedictions like the Pope.
Each day he brought her a skein of silk
to fashion a ladder so they could both escape.
But Mother Gothel discovered the plot
and cut off Rapunzel's hair to her ears
and took her into the forest to repent.
When the prince came the witch fastened
the hair to a hook and let it down.
When he saw Rapunzel had been banished
he flung himself out of the tower, a side of beef.
He was blinded by thorns that prickled him like tacks.
As blind as Oedipus he wandered for years
until he heard a song that pierced his heart
like that long-ago valentine.
As he kissed Rapunzel her tears fell on his eyes
and in the manner of such cure-alls
his sight was suddenly restored.
They lived happily as you might expect
proving that mother-me-do
can be outgrown,
just as the fish on Friday,
just as a tricycle.
The world, some say,
is made up of couples.
A rose must have a stem.
As for Mother Gothel,
her heart shrank to the size of a pin,
never again to say: Hold me, my young dear,
hold me,
and only as she dreamed of the yellow hair
did moonlight sift into her mouth.

poem by Anne Sexton
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Bed Time

mother is
bed time
as mother
tells a lot
of stories
about
strange creatures
like
elastic man
yellow frog
girl
robin hood
red riding hood
manhood
boy with golden
hair
Rapunzel
gazelle
Cinderel la and
Aladdin
we sleep and
mother goes
back to her
bed with father
and the lights
are turned off
and there are
so many dreams
father, mother
and us
and so many of
these dreams
with the
unicorns
and the
dragons sometimes
and the knights
such that
we cannot
anymore
remember

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Goodbye Mother Dear

Mother, mother, mother dear,
Can you hold me close, can you hold me near?
Mother, mother, oh mother dear,
Will you listen, listen to my words of fear?

Mother, I am inside your womb.
Mother, you hold the key.
Mother, is it too late, too soon?
Mother, what do you see?

I hear your heart beat, beat, beat,
It comforts me when I am asleep.
I feel your warmth, I feel your heat,
But mother dear, I feel you weep.

Mother, I am so full of fear.
Mother, I see it in your tear.
Mother, I know you cry and why.
Mother, I know we must say goodbye.

(if only you could let me grow
my love to you then i could show
but that i know cannot be so
the time has come for me to go)

Mother, mother, mother dear,
Do not feel guilt, do not feel fear.
Mother, mother, oh mother dear,
For a while, you held me near.

© Morney Wilson

poem by Morney Wilson
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Song: XI

Mother, mother, do you not hear?
Mother, they come; there is news to tell!
– Give me your hands, my daughter dear:
'Tis but a ship that saileth well.

Mother dear, have a care, give heed!
–They go, my daughter, away they speed.
Mother, the danger is sore, alas!
– Child, my child, it will quickly pass.

Mother, mother, She draweth near!
– It is down in the harbour, daughter dear.
Mother, mother, She opens the door!
– Child, they go, to return no more.

Mother, She enters! I am afraid!
– Child, they now have the anchor weighed.
Mother, I hear Her speaking low.
– Child, my child, it is they that go.

Mother, She makes the stars go dark!
– Child, 'tis the sails of a shadowy bark.
Mother, She knocks at the casement still!
– Child, maybe it is fastened ill. . . .

Mother, mother, my sight grows dim. . . .
– Child, they sail for the open sea.
On every hand I can hear but Him. . . .
– O child, what is it, and who is He?

poem by Maurice Polydore-Marie-Bernard Maeterlinck
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When my mother was dying in the hospital, he thought, when she knew her end was coming, it was not me she looked to but someone who stood behind me: her mother or the ghost of her mother. To me she was a woman but to herself she was still a child calling to her mother to hold her hand and help her. And her own mother, in the secret life we do not see, was a child too. I come from a line of children without end.

quote by J.M. Coetzee
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Colloquy: (For M. W.)

'When you get to Heaven, seek and find my boy.
Mother him!' 'Until you come?' 'I shall never come.
Earth was good enough for me who had all my joy
In my Love, my Light of home.

'But to him be given, in overflowing measure,
All the joys your Heaven can give if your God be just!
He, my boy slain in his youth to serve some mad king's pleasure
And his dreams and hopes in dust.'

'How shall I know him where so many boys are?
Multitudes and multitudes ever they increase.'
'Oh, my boy is young and tall, with bird-russet hair
And quiet eyes of peace.

'He who was killed in a quarrel not his own!
All his days he had good-will to his fellow-men.
Oh, your God is kind and just, shall He not atone
And the dark ways be made plain?

'Seek my son and find him, so he shall not miss
Me, his mother-comrade, through his length of days.'
'Oh, but he would turn from a strange woman's kiss
And ask where his mother delays.

'So be up and going for the way's not long!
God who kissed His Mother dear, a Babe in Nazareth,
Knows how they need mother-love, the dear and precious young,
In the new Life where is no Death.'

poem by Katharine Tynan
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Merrymind

MERRYMIND, Merrymind, whither art thou roaming?
Merrymind, Merrymind, nay, art thou sleeping yet?
Oh, to us, sweet minstrel dear, wilt thou not be homing?
Or we shall forget.
Vale of toil so waste and drear, hear him now advancing,
Playing on the golden strings, the midnight maiden’s boon;
Breaks the sunshine on the hills, the princess falls to dancing
In a bridal noon!

Oh, the joyfulness and kissing of that fiddle’s flowings,
Giving rest and happiness, and laughter delicate!
Fling out from this iron world to his merry bowings,
Oh, be not too late!

Lancelot, Lancelot, ride with song and gleaming
Robin, wind in greenwood shaw thy dreaming silvery horn,
Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down thy hair a-beaming,
Yellow as the corn!

Pride, begone, thou hateful curse of narrowed blood and breeding,
Cruel growth of heaviness and dull, cold ignorance;
Come, thou golden Charity, lend to us thy leading
In a sunny dance!

poem by James Hebblethwaite
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I'll Give You A Flower, Mother

I’ll give you a flower, mother
I’ll give you a flower, dear
For life is but a garden
To children of 5 years

I’ll give you a flower, mother
I’ll give you a flower, dear
For to a bride, they’re lovely
Mother, hold your tears

I’ll give you a flower, mother
I’ll give you a flower, dear
I’ll lay it in your sweet hands
For our time has disappeared

I’ll give you a flower, mother
I’ll give you a flower, dear
When I see you there at heaven
When my time’s done here

poem by Whitney Albright
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Love Gregor; Or, The Lass Of Lochroyan

'O wha will shoe my fu' fair foot?
And wha will glove my hand?
And wha will lace my middle jimp,
Wi' the new-made London band?

'And wha will kaim my yellow hair,
Wi' the new made silver kaim?
And wha will father my young son,
Till Love Gregor come hame?'

'Your father will shoe your fu' fair foot,
Your mother will glove your hand;
Your sister will lace your middle jimp
Wi' the new-made London band.

'Your brother will kaim your yellow hair,
Wi' the new made silver kaim;
And the king of heaven will father your bairn,
Till Love Gregor come haim.'

'But I will get a bonny boat,
And I will sail the sea,
For I maun gang to Love Gregor,
Since he canno come hame to me.'

O she has gotten a bonny boat,
And sailld the sa't sea fame;
She langd to see her ain true-love,
Since he could no come hame.

'O row your boat, my mariners,
And bring me to the land,
For yonder I see my love's castle,
Close by the sa't sea strand.'

She has ta'en her young son in her arms,
And to the door she's gone,
And lang she's knocked and sair she ca'd,
But answer got she none.

'O open the door, Love Gregor,' she says,
'O open, and let me in;
For the wind blaws thro' my yellow hair,
And the rain draps o'er my chin.'

'Awa, awa, ye ill woman,
You'r nae come here for good;
You'r but some witch, or wile warlock,
Or mer-maid of the flood.'

'I am neither a witch nor a wile warlock,
Nor mer-maid of the sea,
I am Fair Annie of Rough Royal;
O open the door to me.'

'Gin ye be Annie of Rough Royal--
And I trust ye are not she--
Now tell me some of the love-tokens
That past between you and me.'

'O dinna you mind now, Love Gregor,
When we sat at the wine,
How we changed the rings frae our fingers?
And I can show thee thine.

'O yours was good, and good enough,
But ay the best was mine;
For yours was o' the good red goud,
But mine o' the diamonds fine.

'But open the door now, Love Gregor,
O open the door I pray,
For your young son that is in my arms
Will be dead ere it be day.'

'Awa, awa, ye ill woman,
For here ye shanno win in;
Gae drown ye in the raging sea,
Or hang on the gallows-pin.'

When the cock had crawn, and day did dawn,
And the sun began to peep,
Then up he rose him, Love Gregor,
And sair, sair did he weep.

'O I dreamd a dream, my mother dear,
The thoughts o' it gars me greet,
That Fair Annie of Rough Royal
Lay cauld dead at my feet.'

'Gin it be for Annie of Rough Royal
That ye make a' this din,
She stood a' last night at this door,
But I trow she wan no in.'

'O wae betide ye, ill woman,
An ill dead may ye die!
That ye woudno open the door to her,
Nor yet woud waken me.'

O he has gone down to yon shore-side,
As fast as he could fare;
He saw Fair Annie in her boat,
But the wind it tossd her sair.

And 'Hey, Annie!' and 'How, Annie!
O Annie, winna ye bide?'
But ay the mair that he cried 'Annie,'
The braider grew the tide.

And 'Hey, Annie!' and 'How, Annie!
Dear Annie, speak to me!'
But ay the louder he cried 'Annie,'
The louder roard the sea.

The wind blew loud, the sea grew rough,
And dashd the boat on shore;
Fair Annie floats on the raging sea,
But her young son rose no more.

Love Gregor tare his yellow hair,
And made a heavy moan;
Fair Annie's corpse lay at his feet,
But his bonny young son was gone.

O cherry, cherry was her cheek,
And gowden was her hair,
But clay cold were her rosey lips,
Nae spark of life was there,

And first he's kissd her cherry cheek,
And neist he's kissed her chin;
And saftly pressd her rosey lips,
But there was nae breath within.

'O wae betide my cruel mother,
And an ill dead may she die!
For she turnd my true-love frae my door,
When she came sae far to me.'

poem by Andrew Lang
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Mother Dawn

Hold me, hold me
Breathe the light into me
Hold me, hold me
Mother dawn
Mother dawn
Dancing round the fire
Circling the flame
Listen to the shadows calling out my name
They say
Rock me like a baby
Cradle me in the light
Bathe me in a rainbow
Sun restore my sight
Hold me, hold me
Breathe the light into me
Hold me, hold me
Mother dawn (all night long yeah)
Hold me, hold me
Breathe the light into me (all night long yeah)
Hold me, hold me
Mother dawn
Look into the light
Come and take a journey through the land of night
Darkness strokes the face and
Steals away the sight
Night is all around me
Stars are in my hair
I feel them tangled in the secrets well
Find hidden there all right
Reaching through the madness
To the other side
Where the sun is rising
With her arms held wide
Hold me, hold me
Breathe the light into me
Hold me, hold me
Mother dawn (all night long yeah)
(till the dawn light comes)
Hold me, hold me
Breathe the light into me (all night long yeah)
Hold me, hold me
Mother dawn (all night long)
(I know youre gonna love me)
(I know youre gonna love me)
One star flew against the tapestry of the night
And the earth revolved in perfect symmetry
To a symphony of sun
The moon danced its final bow
As the birth of day
Exploded
In my eyes
Reaching through the madness
To the other side
Where the sun is rising
With her arms held wide
Rock me like a baby
Cradle me in light
Youre gonna bathe me in a rainbow
And the sun restore my sight
Hold me, hold me
Breathe the light into me
Hold me, hold me
Mother dawn
Hold me, hold me (all night long yeah)
Breathe the light into me
(till the dawn light comes yeah)
Hold me, hold me (all night long yeah)
Mother dawn (I know youre gonna love me yeah)
I know youre
Gonna love me
All night long yeah
Till the dawn light comes
All night long yeah
I know youre gonna love me love me
All night long yeah
Till the dawn light comes
All night long yeah
I know youre gonna love me love me
Mother dawn

song performed by by Billy Idol
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A fairytale life

I am no Cinderella
And I have no knight and shining amour
Nor am I sleeping beauty,
Whose prince woke her with a kiss.

I am simply the girl,
Whose foot the glass slipper did not fit.
The Rapunzel whose hair the prince could not reach.
The mermaid who did not get kissed before sunset on that fatal third day.

My story doesn’t end with a ‘happy ever after’
I’m no princess and my life is no fairytale.
But who needs fairytales
When everything I have, is all I will ever need.

poem by Nangula Nafuka
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A Mother Kisses.....

the world will be wonderful in you
with every day’s stay; you have open my
silent mood, after a life time of waiting in
your womb dear mother....

my flesh have born again, by just a
touch of your tender and smooth skin, and
i feel something that rejuvenate my last
lips i offer; to secure as you stay my past,
oh! stay my beloved beginning of my flesh
lovely mother......

open my young heart, for i will give you all
my love, to any distances surprise your joy
i remain, my beautiful mother.....

i play round, from role of tide, and as far
i’ll stay i always will turn too, give me the
chance for a moment to be with you, lasting i
pray that made me to stay in the womb, for
another time with you again and someday
i belong to thee, beloved mother.....

your kisses have say that my life is willing to
come home my darling mother.......

poem by Antonio Liao
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Mother Moon (prayer)

Mother give me the strength to stand strong
Give me the courage to do whats right
Give me the life to live
And the wisdom to give good advice

Mother give me a life to touch
Give me the emotions to feel
Give me the knowledge to know when its false
And to know when its real

Mother give me the hand to hold
Give me the heart with which to love
Give me the eyes to look upon you
In that glittering sky above

Mother give me someone special
Give me love that knows no end
Your the Goddess in the Heavens
You are my mother and my closest friend

poem by Tatianna Rei Moonshadow
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Hold On Hold Out

Hold on hold out, keep a hold on strong
The moneys in and the bets are down
You wont hold out long
They say youll fall in no time at all
But you know theyre wrong
Known it all along
Hold on hold out, keep a hold on still
If you dont see what your love is worth
No one ever will
Youve done your time on the bottom line
And it aint no thrill
Theres got to be something more
Keep a hold on still
You know what it is youre waiting for
Now you just hold on
Hold on hold out, hold on
Give up your heart and you lose your way
Trusting another to feel that way
Give up your heart and you find yourself
Living for something in somebody else
Sometimes you wonder what happens to love
Sometimes the touch of a friend is enough
Hold a place for the human race
Keep it open wide
Give it time to fall or climb
But let the time decide
Sometimes you wonder whats in this for you
But you wait, and you see
cause its all you can do
Just to hold on
Hold on hold out, hold on
For the countless souls beaten by their goals
Keep a hold on now
And the ones betrayed by the deals they made
Keep a hold on
If you hold your ground itll turn around
Keep a hold somehow
Hold on hold out, keep a hold on tight
Tonights the night
Wake up and turn on the light
You fight, and youre right--
Its gonna take all your might...
Youre a hold out
Well Im a hold out too
But it took me all this time to figure out
Something you already knew
Will love be true? can it pull you through?
How long? how strong?
Somethings depend on you
See-- I always figured I was going to meet somebody here
And I dont know why
Why should love come down and suddenly just sweep me away
I want to fly
But there are so many things in my way
Anyway...
I guess you wouldnt know unless I told you
But...
I love you
Well just look at yourself--
What else would I do?
Hold on--

song performed by by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Moss Of His Skin

'Young girls in old Arabia were often buried alive next
to their fathers, apparently as sacrifice to the goddesses
of the tribes…'

-Harold Feldman, 'Children of the Desert' Psychoanalysis
and Psychoanalytic Review, Fall 1958

It was only important
to smile and hold still,
to lie down beside him
and to rest awhile,
to be folded up together
as if we were silk,
to sink from the eyes of mother
and not to talk.
The black room took us
like a cave or a mouth
or an indoor belly.
I held my breath
and daddy was there,
his thumbs, his fat skull,
his teeth, his hair growing
like a field or a shawl.
I lay by the moss
of his skin until
it grew strange. My sisters
will never know that I fall
out of myself and pretend
that Allah will not see
how I hold my daddy
like an old stone tree.

poem by Anne Sexton
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Boadicea (Mother's touch) Ft Rekha Mandegere

At one late night
Behind the wall
Through the window
Where all life pull the blanket
Except one sleepless at night
The aid of moonlight
The shadow reveal secret,
A women stand hugging a child
Crying because the bites of cold night
Or maybe a nightmare played in the dark

She sat and kissed,
deliver warmest hug
Her calming sounds
Tunes move from her lips
Whispering a soulful lullaby
Original song composed by heart

'Lovely star, I tell the world
What a precious gift is mine
Nothing can match with its golden shine'
Close the eyes, tiny one
Swayed by the secure
The child fall asleep again

The child always love
And be loved forever
When the world turn down
She comes with her palm on our face
'Sweet child, make the world smiles
A lovely pole star, my twinkled bright'

'Standing at the height of the sky
Above all the hills and dales
It’s nature of law, none can forgo
Thunderstorms will come and go'
Oh Lord, you stop my worry
Her wisdom make life sound easy

Her words Her love
Carry anywhere
with love affair
Her cry Her strength
Birthing love to life
Feeding little with care

She carrying you in heart
Respect her whole heart

A mother in anywhere
Hold a responsibility from Him
Embracing child as He sent
Beautiful life circulate fairly treat
A child, anyone, everywhere
Hold a responsibility from Him
Respect her, care and love

Till one day
Could be a day
In one silent night,
The child comes near
Whispering dear to ears
A kiss upon her silver hair
to sing familiar tunes flare

'Lovely Ma, I share to the world
What a precious gift is mine
Nothing can match with her golden shine'
Time will reveal for a child
See her smile listening her cradle song back to her :)

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : Theme: Mother's love: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :
Great chance to write a poem with fellow poet
She acts as a mother in this poem, which give
a true effect just like a mother's touch
: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

poem by Unwritten Soul
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While Hair Brushing

Juliette drags the brush
through her hair you have
to brush it at least one
hundred times her mother

had said years ago and say
a prayer each time you get
it through and maybe God
will bless you and as she sits

and brushes her hair she
remembers her mother standing
over her when she was a child
and the hair was as long then

as it is now and oh God she
says how I hated it the knots
and tangles and the number of
times I used to cry each time

she pauses in front of the mirror
the brush held mid air sometimes
when she brushes her hair and
stares in the mirror she sees him

there looking at her as he did back
then watching her every move
his dark eyes greedily drinking
her in and once he placed his

hands around her waist and kissed
her neck how she cringed his spittle
still there her uncle his breath his
hands touching always when she

was alone and once when undressing
he came in and stared and said he
thought she was becoming a beautiful
young girl now she brushes her hair

again the brush stiff and heavy gripped
in her hand and as she stares into the
mirror heavy with times and care she
thinks she sees him still staring still there.

poem by Terry Collett
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The Old Witch in the Copse

I am a Witch, and a kind old Witch,
There's many a one knows that--
Alone I live in my little dark house
With Pillycock, my cat.
A girl came running through the night,
When all the winds blew free:--
'O mother, change a young man's heart
That will not look on me.
O mother, brew a magic mead
To stir his heart so cold.'
'Just as you will, my dear,' said I;
'And I thank you for your gold.'
So here am I in the wattled copse
Where all the twigs are brown,
To find what I need to brew my mead
As the dark of night comes down.
Primroses in my old hands,
Sweet to smell and young,
And violets blue that spring in the grass
Wherever the larks have sung.
With celandines as heavenly crowns
Yellowy-gold and bright; All of these,
O all of these,
Shall bring her Love's delight.
But orchids growing snakey green
Speckled dark with blood,
And fallen leaves that curled and shrank
And rotted in the mud,
With blistering nettles burning harsh
And blinding thorns above;
All of these, O all of these
Shall bring the pains of Love.
Shall bring the pains of Love, my Puss,
That cease not night or day,
The bitter rage, nought can assuage
Till it bleeds the heart away.
Pillycock mine, my hands are full
My pot is on the fire.
Purr, my pet, this fool shall get
Her fool's desire.

poem by Frances Darwin Cornford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sorrow

I walked into the park and saw a young man sitting by a flower bed
I asked him why he looked so miserable and this is what he said,
“Sixty years ago I fell in love with a beautiful girl and now she has to die
I knew her time would come one day, but the years have just flashed by.

I knew that it was wrong to love her, but my heart ruled over my head.
I was there when she was born at home and I stood by her mother’s bed.
As the years passed I watched over her, and proposed when she was sixteen.
She was so young and beautiful then, and everyday we lived a dream.

She didn’t know that I was different and I just couldn’t bear to tell her so,
but she had suspicions as her hair greyed, and my age didn’t show.
And now my heart is breaking because I want to die and be with my wife,
without her my life isn’t worth living, and I no longer want this life.

For sixty years life has been wonderful for me and my only true love,
but soon I must take her up and leave her in the heavens above.
I don’t know how I’m going to take the woman I adore from my side.
I’m sorry for sharing my sorrow with you, ” and as he left he cried.

poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Four Woman

My skin is black
My arms are long
My hair is woolly
My back is strong
Strong enough to take the pain
inflicted again and again
What do they call me
My name is AUNT SARAH
My name is Aunt Sarah
My skin is yellow
My hair is long
Between two worlds
I do belong
My father was rich and white
He forced my mother late one night
What do they call me
My name is SAFFRONIA
My name is Saffronia
My skin is tan
My hair is fine
My hips invite you
my mouth like wine
Whose little girl am I?
Anyone who has money to buy
What do they call me
My name is SWEET THING
My name is Sweet Thing
My skin is brown
my manner is tough
I'll kill the first mother I see
my life has been too rough
I'm awfully bitter these days
because my parents were slaves
What do they call me
My name is PEACHES

song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Childs Cry

laying in bed looking up at the ceiling
my eyes got blurry, and my head started reeling.
i saw a vision start to take form
of a child who was unborn.

this child was in the womb of its mother
being fed by the tube to give it life.

he turned and looked straight at me
and its eyes were as big as can be.

he raised his small little hand
and signaled me to look inside.
it was something that he could not hide.

the vision came closer to me
just so that i could see.

i saw the pain that this child was in
because his mother was
thinking to abort
and for the last two months he had fought.

all the features that GOD was creating
was thought by the mother
of becoming belated.

this young mother was under peer pressure
to take this childs life
and it did not matter if it was wrong or right.

this young child was screaming at me
'how could they let this be'
i am life given by the lord
why would she want to abort.

tell her to give me a chance
so that i could live in the warmth
of her arms, and fill her heart with joy.
it would matter not, if i'm a girl or a boy.

can't she feel me, and see me
in her dreams at night
and that i'm in a perilous fight.
i want to live just like she
there is nothing wrong with me.

the vision started to fade away
and in my heart, i started to pray
let this child live another day
and from this woman the pain to go away.

LIFE IS SACRED, DON'T THROW IT AWAY
IF YOUR MOTHER THOUGHT LIKE YOU
YOU WOULD'NT BE HERE TODAY.

poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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