Moon child
Bizarrely the moon fell pregnant and swelled in size,
She gave birth to a boy that grew up to be wise,
Although the child achieved much and gained great acclaim,
He felt too overshadowed by his mother's fame,
He'd always be asked about her by passersby,
As they admired how she lit up the night sky,
The boy struggled to light things that he looked upon,
And he was fed up of always being outshone,
So he went on a quest which would cost him dearly,
He tried eating fire but he was burnt severely,
He tried soaking up the sun's rays and scorched his skin,
Then thankfully his ideas began to run thin,
However he still had much determination,
And so he went off in search of inspiration,
On his travels he found someone who was lambent,
Who led him to a man that offered contentment,
The boy was told to sing spells as loud as he could,
But he had to move on as it did him no good,
Another man that said he could solve his problem,
Told him to say an incantation whilst solemn,
Sadly all that the act did was waste the boy's time,
Which is an annoyance for someone in their prime,
Regardless of the act not making that much sense,
He combined the advice to see what happened thence,
Lightning flashed and dark clouds turned the day into night,
And peculiarities were seen that caused fright,
But then his anxieties started to grow less,
For he was certain the charm had been a success,
As he noticed that he shone as he had hoped for,
But his light soon faded until it was no more,
Though that which he had hoped for hadn't been attained,
He was thankful since pride for his mother was gained.
poem by Christian Lacdael
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Related quotes
Brother Sun and Sister Moon
When light was fashioned here and there
Before the Cosmic dust,
God saw it was beyond compare
And worthy of His trust,
That's why He gave Man eyes to see,
Observing all he could,
From what there was and was to be,
Then choosing what was good.
The sun and moon shone day and night
While Adam looked above,
Then Adam sensed something not right,
He had no-one to love...
The lights of day and night combined
In perfect harmony,
But he had no-one he could find
To keep him company...
'Why is this so? ' he asked the Lord,
Who'd saved the best till last...
'Fear not, your plight won't be ignored,
Your loneliness is past.
You had to sense it in your heart,
To learn just how that felt...
To know there was a missing part
That caused your joy to melt...'
Then Adam slept, one rib to lose,
The Lord new life to make...
The woman Adam was to choose
To take away the ache...
When Adam woke, his eyes were glad,
For beauty was at hand
And gone all thoughts of feeling sad,
When told what God had planned...
That's why the sun and moon are friends,
For they portrayed the truth,
Upon each other, each depends
And that's a solemn truth...
They comfort every seeing eye
With newfound happiness...
Brother and sister in the sky,
Shine on, the world to bless...
poem by Denis Martindale
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Enough Of Me
We were all wounded in some domestic war
I found you to settle my score
You looked like father
You felt like mother
My mind told my heart
There is no other
And I gave you my soul
And every ounce of control
I gave you my skin
And my original sin
I gave you my pride and my side
oh my pride
Ain't that enough
I turned your dreams into lightning
Ain't that enough
I held the world back for you
Ain't that enough
I loved you past the point of dying
Ain't that enough of me for you
I was so sure one and one gave you one
My noisy love is coming undone
Now you leave like father
Disappointed like mother
And I know in my heart
There is no other
And I gave you my soul
And every ounce of control
And I gave you my shame
And my eternal flame
And I gave you my need and my seed Oh my need
Why can't you hold on
song performed by by Melissa Etheridge
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Secrets
I told her all my secrets.
Once started they came out almost by themselves and she acted so enchanted it was easy to just keep going on and on.
I told her about my first kiss, about my stealing grapes from the grocery store, one grape, is all it was, but I never forgot taking it. I told her about the time I told a lie to make myself seem more important than I was.
I had never been to Russia. But I said I did to impress my friends. I told her of times I had been quiet when I should have spoken up, of that moment of cowardice when I should have helped my friend when the gang caught us. I didn't help. I ran and they caught him. I didn't go back to help.
I revealed what I think about at night when I am going to sleep, my little vanities and self-deceptions because they seem harmless. I told her about the little mean things I've done and the day I learned that you could lie if it was small one and it kept someone from feeling hurt; of the secret anxieties i felt and the loves I lost and never knew why, of how I worry about being in shape all the time and the times in my twenties when I looked everywhere in faces on the street, in magazines, among strangers asking myself are you The One? I told her that quest never ended-I simply shortened the voyage because long quests can be tiring.
I told her of my secret desire to impress her by telling her my secrets; no pretending to tell her secrets so as to get her to tell me her secrets and this was my ultimate secret which, of course was no secret at all, since I told.
She laughed saying 'I know but the gesture, I thought was sweet.'
So, I said, 'Do you have pretend secrets for me? ' 'Sure, ' she said, 'but I will mix in the telling some real ones, like you did, and we can then both guess which ones were true. A little mystery never hurt anyone.'
So she began to reciprocate tellling me her first kiss was through a screen door and her mother asked what was wrong with her lips, about never realizing until she was ten that it went in... there.. About the shock of all of it. About the time she saw her mother and dad doing it. She told me about the first time which was very very short, and the boy who was afraid and fumbly. About her first push-em-bra and lace underthings she bought at Victoria's Secret and the party where some one felt her up in the dark and she let him. About her belief that she had lived in some previous life and remembered bits and pieces of it.
About how she thought when getting her period that she was dying and didn't tell anyone until her mother discovered the blood. Her first boy friend who was sweet and a virgin and so was she. She thought you could get pregnant from tonguing when kissing; about her first O and how it scared her; how she looked in the mirror afterwards to she if she had changed; about how scared she was when it came time to deliver the baby.
We talked for hours, mostly about the secrets but ultimately we started to share dreams. She wanted to be a ballerina but had to give it up. I wanted to be a sports star, but too short. We share dreams gains and lost, mostly lost, given up for a good job or the quest for one or for family and kids.
From that first 'she called my number by mistake call' we call once a year, in secret of course, and share some more. We've never met. Don't need to. I already know all her secrets and she knows mine.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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When Day met Night
When Day met the Night,
there was a story to tell.
About heavenly Light,
falling in love with Dark Hell.
The Light was nice,
and curtsied when due.
the Dark had no manners,
not a noted a' due.
So when Light found Dark,
she hugged him deep.
Instead he slithered away,
making Light weep.
Dark looked back before he ran,
Seeing Light kneeling and broken down.
Dark ran over and pulled her lips up,
'Upside down goes that frown! '
He snickered and fled,
back down to Hell.
Light blushed and smiled,
leaving as well.
So when Light met Dark,
on that faithful day.
Dark gained a moon,
to lead Light's way.
poem by Samantha Bush
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The Birth
he was born on a dark lonely night
and not a soul was in sight.
his mother was driving home
on that starry night, when she started
to feel the contractions.
she knew right then that she would
have to take action.
she pulled alongside that old country road
and her stomach she did hold
.
when she felt that waterbag bust
and in GOD she put her trust.
she asked the LORD what she should do
for she knew not what to do.
she heard a voice so soft and gentle
that told her to stay calm.
for this was a special child
that would be born this night
and that everything was going
to be allright.
she pushed the front seat back
as far as it would go
and took off her clothing so
that she could see.
the pains became so severe
and a head did appear.
she pushed with all her might
so that this child could be free.
for this was the way
it was meant to be.
as the child started to come out
from her lungs came a shout.
this child came out with such ease
and she felt a gentle breeze
as if it was a whisper upon her face
and she knew it was through GODS grace.
with a penknife she cut the cord.
and cleaned him up the best she could.
she wrapped him within her coat
and put the heater on
and drove back to a distant farm.
when she got to the farm
and banged upon the door.
when no one answered
she knealt down on the floor.
again she called upon the LORD
and asked what she should do.
he told her to look towads the barn
for there was a light as bright as day
and the farmer was baling hay.
as she got to the barn door
she collapsed in sheer exhaustion.
when she finally opened up her eyes
on the hay she did lay.
and beside her lay her child.
and the farmer told her she was
out for quite a while.
but the ambulance was on the way
and that he could not move her
in fear of jeopardizing her life
and that she was cleaned up
by his lovely wife.
now the farmers wife was
a religious woman
who believed that nothing
happens by chance.
and at this child she did glance.
she said that he had an aura
of light above his head
just like the bible which she had read.
she looked at this childs mother
and asked her this:
'is this coincidence or is this
a sign from above
that he would be in a barn
like christ was in the manger?
she recalled that gentle voice and
what it had said.
that a special child would be born on this night.
now you tell me.
was she wrong, or was she right?
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Little Pierre's Song
In a humble room in London sat a pretty little boy,
By the bedside of his sick mother her only joy,
Who was called Little Pierre, and who's father was dead;
There he sat poor boy, hungry and crying for bread.
There he sat humming a little song, which was his own,
But to the world it was entirely unknown,
And as he sang the song he felt heartsick,
But he resolved to get Madame Malibran to sing his song in public
Then he paused for a moment and clasped his hands,
And running to the looking-glass before it he stands,
Then he smoothed his yellow curls without delay,
And from a tin box takes a scroll of paper worn and grey.
Then he gave one fond eager glance at his mother,
Trying hard brave boy his grief to smother,
As he gazed on the bed where she lay,
But he resolved to see Madame Malibran without delay.
Then he kissed his mother while she slept,
And stealthily from the house he crept,
And direct to Madame Malibran's house he goes,
Resolved to see her no matter who did him oppose.
And when he reached the door he knocked like a brave gallant
And the door was answered by her lady servant,
Then he told the servant Madame Malibran he wished to see
And the servant said, oh yes, I'll tell her immediately.
Then away the servant goes quite confident,
And told her a little boy wished to see her just one moment
Oh! well, said Madame Malibran, with a smile,
Fetch in the little boy he will divert me a while.
So Little Pierre was broght in with his hat under his arm
And in his hand a scroll of paper, thinking it no harm,
Then walked straight up to Madame Malibran without dread
And said, dear lady my mother is sick and in want of bread.
And I have called to see if you would sing my little song,
At someof your grand concerts, Ah! Say before long,
Or perhaps you could sell it to a publisher for a small sum,
Then I could buy food for my mother and with it would run.
Then Madame Malibran rose from her seat most costly and grand
And took the scroll of paper from Pierre's hand
And hummed his little song, to a plaintive air,
Then said, your song is soul stirring I do declare.
Dear child did you compose the words she asked Pierre,
Oh yes my dear lady just as you see,
Well my dear boy I will sing your song to-night,
And you shall have a seat near me on the right.
Then Pierre, said, Oh! lady I cannot leave my mother,
But my dear boy, as for her you need not bother,
So dear child don't be the least cast down,
And in the meantime here is a crown.
And for your mother you can buy food and medicine,
So run away and be at the concert to-night in time
Then away he ran and bought many little necessary things
And while doing so his little song he hums and sings.
Then home to his poor sick mother he quickly ran,
And told her of his success with Madame Malibran,
Then his mother cried, Oh! Pierre, you are a very good boy,
And to hear of your success my heart is full of joy.
Dear mother, I am going to the concert hall to-night,
To hear Madame Malibran, which will my heart delight,
Oh! well said his mother, God speed you my little man,
I hope you will be delighted to hear Madame Malibran.
So to the concert hall he goes, and found a seat there,
And the lights and flashing of diamonds made him stare,
And caused a joyous smile to play upon his face,
For never had he been in so grand a place.
There the brave boy sat and Madame Malibran came at last
And with his eyes rivetted on her he sared aghast,
And to hear her sing, Oh! how he did long,
And he wondered if the lady would really sing his song.
At last the great singer commenced his little song,
And many a heart was moved and the plaudits loud and long
And as she sang it Pierre clapped his hands for joy.
That he felt as if it were free from the world's annoy.
When the concert was over his heart felt as light as the air
And as for money now he didn't seem to care,
Since the great singer in Europe had sung his little song,
But he hoped that dame fortune would smile on him ere long
The next day he was frightened by a visit from Madame Malibran
And turning to his mother, she said your little boy Madame
Will make a fortune for himself and you before long,
Because I've been offered a large sum for his little song.
And Madame thank God you have such a gifted son,
But dear Madame heavens will must be done,
Then Pierre knelt and prayed that God would the lady bless
For helping them in the time of their distress.
And the memory of Pierre's prayer made the singer do more good
By visiting the poor and giving them clothing and food
And Pierre lightened her last moments ere her soul fled away
And he came to be one of the most talented composers of the day.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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With Obstacles And Criticisms Expected
The success of my adventures,
Began when I became ignored.
When I began to explore my individuality,
With a sense not to pay attention...
To those who attempted,
To block this need I felt inside of me.
The success of my adventures,
Awakened with my curiosity.
I wanted to know how things in life connected.
And not too many explanations,
Did I accept.
I researched my own philosphies.
Although I've been close to breakiing my neck.
'Boy, do you think money grows on trees? '
My mother would say that to me early...
When she would buy my sister Mim and I,
Candy I didn't like!
And I wondered 'why' she kept saying 'that' to me.
Planting that seed to uncover,
WHERE did money grow?
If not from trees?
I had to know!
My mother 'hinted' there were other possibilities.
The success of my adventures,
Began when I became ignored.
When I began to explore my individuality,
With a sense not to pay attention...
To those who attempted,
To block this need I felt inside of me.
And I wanted to know...
If I couldn't do certain things,
Why was this told to me before I tried?
Why was this said to me,
As 'if' to deny?
And upon hearing 'that'...
I started to carve my own path.
And,
If I became lost...
It was something about 'that',
That became more attractive.
With obstacles and criticisms...
Expected!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Among All Lovely Things My Love Had Been
AMONG all lovely things my Love had been;
Had noted well the stars, all flowers that grew
About her home; but she had never seen
A glow-worm, never one, and this I knew.
While riding near her home one stormy night
A single glow-worm did I chance to espy;
I gave a fervent welcome to the sight,
And from my horse I leapt; great joy had I.
Upon a leaf the glow-worm did I lay,
To bear it with me through the stormy night:
And, as before, it shone without dismay;
Albeit putting forth a fainter light.
When to the dwelling of my Love I came,
I went into the orchard quietly;
And left the glow-worm, blessing it by name,
Laid safely by itself, beneath a tree.
The whole next day, I hoped, and hoped with fear;
At night the glow-worm shone beneath the tree;
I led my Lucy to the spot, 'Look here,'
Oh! joy it was for her, and joy for me!
poem by William Wordsworth
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Unwed Mothers Pain
she was so young and mistook infatuation for love
and to her boyfriend she gave herself freely.
to her shock and gloom -a child was in her womb.
she told her boyfriend of what she discovered.
to hear him say 'it must be from another'
i am too young to marry
this problem you'll have to carry.
her friends turned their backs in dismay
they did'nt know just what to say.
when she told her family-they responded coldly.
' why did you make this mistake-now its far too late.
love is not the opening of your thighs.
now you'll have to hide that baby which you carry inside.'
abandoned by friends and family, when they were needed most.
she kneeled and prayed to the FATHER, SON, AND HOLY GHOST.
she recalled the words which were told to her.
'abort or abandon'
is this what you have to say?
but! my child there is no other way!
in her heart she knew that it 'could not be'
that god wanted her to abandon this baby
so with determination she began to pack
she would go elsewhere-there was no turning back.
she knew that she did not have enough education
to do what she wanted to do.
but she promised this child that
'i'll make a life for me and you'
sitting at a bus stop-bags in her hand.
she met this woman all dressed in blue with soft tender eyes.
she told her -her story, and then began to cry.
this woman put her arm around her and said
'fret not my child-you can stay with me for a while.'
with hope in her heart-she went with this lady.
found a job and continued with school.
and promised herself that no one else would
take her for a fool.
nine months later she did give birth
to a baby girl with beautiful blue eyes, and her skin so white.
and above her head was a shining bright light.
so she named her after this woman who took her in.
i'll name you Mary with the beautiful white skin.
time went by quickly and graduate she did.
she gave this child the love that was always in her heart
and her career became a very big part.
she thanked God for this lady who gave her -her start.
this beautiful lady with a kind tender heart.
the years passed quickly and mary started to grow
more beautiful than you'll ever know'
she came home from work on a cold snowy day
to find that lady mary had passed away.
she honored this lady the best way she could.
by opening her home to unwed mothers and anyone
in despair'
and named this home 'marys lair'.
and now when she tells the story she says
'mother mary always dressed in blue
my doors are open because of you'
so always keep faith in your heart and mind.
God listens! it just takes time.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Im The Girl
Ive got a memory
A thousand years old
And I know secrets
Ive never been told
And Ive got jewels
I havent found
And theyll return me
To the ground
Im the girl, Im the girl, Im the girl
You know me
Im the girl, Im the girl, Im the girl
You know me
And Im a siren
Ill wreck you on my shores
And Im godiva
Ill call you back for more
And Im medusa
And Im your favourite doll
And Im a georgia okeefe
Hanging on your wall
Im the girl, Im the girl, Im the girl
You know me
Im the girl, Im the girl, Im the girl
You know me
Im joan of arc
Im the girl next door
Im the mother and the daughter
Of the mother and the daughter before
And I remember being born just sound and light
And sound and light and light
And I remember the first time, skin on skin in the arms
In the arms of the night
Well how many times have we looked up into the starry skies
And how many times have we felt the passion rise
Every ruby-lipped girl baby, old lady, squaw junkie, girl after girl after girl
Every muse, whore, good witch, princess, back arching, year after year after year
Im the girl, Im the girl, Im the girl
You know me
Im the girl, Im the girl, Im the girl
You know me
Im joan of arc
Im the girl next door
Im the mother and the daughter
Of the mother and the daughter
The mother and the daughter
Of the mother and the daughter
The mother and the daughter
Of the mother and the daughter
Before.
song performed by by Heather Nova
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Was The Child of The Night
I was the child of the night
Dark is my father
The moon is my mother
Star of stars was my sister
I was the child of the night
My father is a symbol of fear and helplessness
My mom is the charm
My sister is the beauty of the night
I was the child of night who afraid of the dark night
Mom, please tell to father i would not like the darkness
But my mother said, need not be afraid, my daughter, my light will always protect you from the dark night.
I always give you a glimmer of light in the darkness.
And see your sister, she was very beautiful among the dark of night.
My daughter, the darkness is tranquility.
Many people would like stay in it although it will make them are scared and helpless because
They are find peace in the darkness.
Struggle with Darkness
The sun set and it was being dark,
A pitch dark night had fallen,
No light was there nor any spark,
A star shone at all of sudden,
And found all his friends sleeping,
He went and tried them awake,
One of them got up from his sleeping,
And asked why he made him awake.
Asked him making the earth light,
Cause there had fallen a dark night,
But, his reply was then shown,
'What can be done, O friend! Alone?
Without the moon we are what?
Against the darkness can't be fought,
Let's go to awake our moon
The earth may it light up soon.'
They both reached the moon and found,
The moon was lying on the ground,
And appeared, she was not fine,
Cause she had drunk the evil wine,
Unfair gifts had she been given,
For shining not in dark night,
Forgot she, her duty at all of sudden,
And let the inhabitents of earth fight.
The moon ordered them to go and sleep,
'What's the use for them weep?
We'll be given gifts for this deed,
And on duty we find nothing indeed.
'Second' of both agreed with the moon,
He went and slept very soon,
'First' was worried, but nothing spake,
And he put himself at stake.
He went respectively to each stars and;
Requested them to get up and shine,
Initially they were afraid being mixed in sand,
At last they all accepted his wine,
All of them when began to shine,
Like the ornaments of the sky,
The moon felt a tasteless wine,
On herself she was shy.
Getting up, the moon begged sorry to all,
And she shone at full of her might,
Lighten up was every mount, forest and wall,
And became silver the whole sight.
This revolution if on the earth befall,
No country would be worried but delight,
Be alive, no of your leaders can thee enthrall,
But know the deference between Black and White.
25/02/07
poem by Mohammad Muzzammil
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Bible Verse
I asked the child why did she curse
Her answer was, she knew not a Bible verse
She never went to church or knew how to say a prayer
So all that she knew, was how to curse and swear,
I was told that her mother had taught her well
But never taught her about heaven or even hell
And all that she knew is from what she had read
While listening to the words that her mother had said.
I asked the child why did she lie
Her response to me, it is better than to cry
As things got bad and then they turned worse
That's all that she knew, and she knew not a Bible verse,
Her mother had told her the things not to do
But then they differed from other's points of view
And all the child knew was from what she had seen
As she watched her mother, which was unforeseen.
I asked the child why did she steal
Taking from others for a terrible ordeal
She answered me, as she placed the goods in her purse
'It is the way that I am', and I know not of a Bible verse
Someday soon I will probably smoke and drink
Spoke the child to me as she began to think
But then am I not the girl that my mother did raise
And every day to my mother, I give her praise.
I asked the child why did she fight
She then said to me, it's better than being polite
Her mother's honor again she had to defend
And fighting is all that she could comprehend
So the child then wiped the pain off of her face
As she slowly walked away in sadness and disgrace
The last thing she said to me as we did converse
She said, I truly wish that I knew a Bible verse.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Broken Home
she came from a broken home
where the parents at each other
would throw stones.
every day they would argue, bicker
and fight, all the way til the night.
not realizing their childs plight.
the child to them in turn would scream
but in the battle she was not seen.
from her father she had sexual abuse
fighting with him, was of no use.
he forced himself upon her at a very young age
from there on, her life would never be the same.
living in fear of what he would do
and who she could turn to.
where could she go
the judicial system moves very slow.
when she had told her mother.
her mother said it could never be
why would he go with you
when he has me?
she knew then, that she would have to leave
and with her being gone, no one would grieve.
she would pack her bags, with everything
she owned, and on the road she would go.
with tears in her eyes, she walked out
the door, to return never more.
and as she got to the swinging gate
her mother screamed to her
but it was too late.
on her dresser bureau, her mother found this note.
you gave birth to me, and brought me
into this world, and you had always said
that i was your little girl.
but when i told you what had happened to me
you laughed and turned your back on me.
so now i am leaving, because i can not
continue this abuse,
don't look for me, it will be of no use.
i love you mom, for you are my mother
just watch out for my little brother.
i am a child from a broken home
and i know that i'm not alone.
poem by Louis Rams
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The Illuminated Stone
Once there was a rock
holding onto a Blackened sky
'Twas one night when
moon said to Rock
Let me light you...
'No' said rock
'this can not
for I am but a stone,
that was thrown
and landed in the sky.'
'It frightens me here Moon
for see' said Rock 'I cannot fly'
'A Stone? ' laughed Moon 'You need not fly
for you rock, you are a star'
'NO said Rock
this I'm not
I'm ordinary by far'
Moon shone bright
and shed his light
on Rock
and in no time it appeared
that rock might just be
the star Moon predicted,
so here was Rock
still in shock
for everyone started to stare.
'Moon stop that light'
asked Rock
'for you don't understand
I really am just a stone
and a ugly stone I am'
Rock knew of all the
sharp edges and holes and shreds,
caused by much erosion,
for stones are not pebbles
small and smooth,
that lays in soft riverbeds.
Moon grew fond
of Rock
and spent night after night
talking to Rock,
all the time shining his light.
Rock looked past Luna's flame
and found there something plain
this made Rock feel safe with Luna
and started feeling lighter night by night
and as time passed by
Rock and Luna became one
outshining even Sun.
Moon as all man knows
is a bright shining fellow
full of Romance for lovers
and a light for a traveler's road...
he even turns the tides,
but a little known fact,
is that Luna is the cause,
of mental Lunacy.
If this you doubt,
just walk on a full moon's eve,
into a Looney house,
for there you'll perceive
just what happens,
to many who have
one to many times to much,
by Luna's light been touched.
Ask even the howling wolf
who warns, on full moon nights
his fellow wolverine canine,
not to much at full moon stare.
One day perchance,
Rock found this little factling out
and realised how so many, many
laughed at Rocks illuminated faults,
so Rock tried with all Rocks might
to get out of Luna's pure light,
but everywhere that Rock tried to go,
Luna would send his burning flame
illuminating more and more
of Rock's stone of shame.
Rock tried for the longest time
to get away from the Luna once so dear,
but one day Rock began to fear
that Luna will never stop
and that day by day,
Luna's light was not just
illuminating mistakes,
but eroding even more
ugliness into the already unsightly Rock.
One day after much wiggling and fight
Rock came loose from
the blackened sky
and down to earth
Rock tumbled
Rock back to earth did fly,
a hump of burnt out
starlight stone,
and came to rest within
a selfmade crater.
Rock cried and cried
for Moon she missed
but knew that Moon's light
was deluding, not just everyone else
arround it, but most all
the Lunatic man
living on the moon.
poem by Michelle Melody
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Darkness And Daylight
You love the day, worship the light.
You mourn the setting of the sun, hide from the night.
I?
I curse the light of day, though most would praise and cheer.
I say if there were no light, the dark would hold no fear.
How would we feel about the dark if the harsh bright sun had never shone?
We would not wish for light!
For we would know the dark, alone.
It is the harsh, stark light of day which makes the dark of night seem cold.
Dark is bad and light is good, or so I have been told.
But without the dark, what would be the light?
What would a day mean, if we had no night?
poem by Lynda Remus
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Could be a cruel mother
My husband’s mother loved,
Cared and nursed my son,
More than she did her son,
Pouring her sweats and time.
Someone caring my son
Must be a source of pride
To me beside a relief.
Yet I felt most perturbed.
The child grew under her care;
The child found a good time
To be found near her
With its back towards me.
The lady must exit.
She did as I planned.
The child fell sick and felt
Bad about her absence.
I’ve been much relieved.
The child has much grieved.
I became much spirited
And the child, dispirited.
The welfare of the child
Was not my concern, ho!
My sole concern was that
It was under my spell.
Aren’t I a cruel mother?
21.09.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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In Mrs Clarke's Wake
Mrs Clarke pushed
her battered bassinet
between market stalls
not listening
to the stallholder's
shouts and calls
Helen walked behind her mother
as told holding your hand
So I know where you are
Mrs Clarke had said
you sensed
Helen's small hand
in yours
her seven year old skin
touching your
seven year old flesh
her thin fingers
encircling yours
We'll see if they've got
a school skirt
for you here
her mother said
turning back her head
Helen nodded
and you noticed
Helen's enlarged eyes
behind her thick lens
spectacles
searching her mother's
large behind waddling on
stopping now and then
beside stalls
picking up clothes
searching for a skirt or dress
grey and the right size
Helen whispered to you
putting her head
close to yours
Rice pudding for tea
when we get home
with red jam
and sugar too
if you want
and she smiled
and you said shyly
That's good
because I'm starving
she looked at your hand
in hers and said
Then we can play
mums and dads
and my dolls
can be our family
her mother stopped
and picked up a skirt
and held it up
to the light
then held it against
her daughter's waist
judging for size
and you watched
her mother's hands
red with washing
and cleaning
thinking and gauging
the size and cost
as you studying
Helen's hand in yours
like a soul lost.
poem by Terry Collett
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Spring
The world was overcome with cold,
Everything seemed frozen or dead,
The snowdropp flower acted bold,
And caused a change that would soon spread,
The sun was warmed so sought to aid,
Hoping that others would be led,
In time the chill started to fade,
Which in turn woke a young maid,
The maiden gained the touch of life,
For she picked a flower she thought nice,
Which was the one that fought through strife,
She then sought to craft paradise,
Everything the maiden spied,
Gained beauty with which to entice,
Till the entire countryside,
Was fill with beauty far and wide,
The world again had its old charm,
For with life it began to teem,
The cold seemed to have done no harm,
As though it'd been but a bad dream,
As sunlight freed the land from gloom,
Vibrant colours began to gleam,
For nature took its cue to bloom,
Infusing the air with perfume,
The sights seen were so singular,
The sky formed and then cried a tear,
What was yet more irregular,
It cried till it gave cause to fear,
There was an extensive downpour,
For skies were no longer clear,
It rained and rained and rained some more,
Which had effects none could ignore,
Showers made beauty hard to see,
As it lessened nature's appeal,
Blossom was shed from every tree,
As a result of the ordeal,
The maiden was notably keen,
To somehow once again reveal,
How nature can appear serene,
And to restore the sights once seen,
The maiden tried to save all in reach,
but the rain had dampened her touch,
Tries were had but failure met each,
And so nothing changed all that much,
From herself the maid feared reproach,
But to hope she would tightly clutch,
So as more change was to encroach,
She sought to think up a new approach,
The maid then used paint for her aim,
So all the bright colours could stay,
She made sure nothing looked the same,
And made a beautiful display,
The rain continued to pour down,
And soon washed all the paint away,
To the sun heads turned to complain,
Hoping that it was not in vain,
Those on earth had the last laugh,
Getting through to the sun proved tough,
So a bird went on their behalf,
Though aware the trek would be rough,
The brave bird gave the sun a brief,
And told him enough was enough,
He outlined experienced grief,
And asked for there to be relief,
There was a reclaiming of hope,
As the sun's might at last awoke,
He glared till the clouds could not cope,
And so the cloud cover soon broke,
The temperature started to grow,
As the sun acted to provoke,
Which in time caused the wind to blow,
And the rains to finally go,
The skies were the bluest ever known,
For all the rain clouds were long gone,
To far away lands they were blown,
Uncovering the sun which shone,
Life started to flourish again,
Wherever the sun fell upon,
Life swelled in every wood and glen,
Crafting beauty that's hard to pen,
The maiden aided as well,
By using her life giving skill,
All that caused gloom was bade farewell,
As all bowed to a stronger will,
The girl's actions were her downfall,
As they soon led her to fall ill,
She spurred life in things great and small,
Till she had no life left at all,
The maiden's death broke many a heart,
For all loved her every aspect,
Sad that from life she did depart,
They lined up to pay their respect,
The maid lived on despite her fate,
Since her life had made an impact,
Which nature's glorious state,
Clearly acted to illustrate.
poem by Christian Lacdael
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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That was our moment
That was our moment
As I sit and reminisce
I think of the night
When we first spoke
The moment our eyes met
You said you were a writer
Without realising I was a fighter
You did not even know my name
As I had your confidence tamed
That was our moment
Out of the blue the words came
I asked if you could spend the night with me
I promised you inspiration
As long as you gave me attention
I was sure to show great appreciation
You looked at me with a drunken gaze
Yours eyes and smile said you were interested
And we entered into a mutual agreement
On the long bus ride home
I hoped you would not change your mind
As your hands fiddled in your pocket
Thankfully your money you could not find
You were in a trance thoughtfully thinking
Perhaps debating if our moment was right or wrong
I could sense it
I could feel it
But my body was selfishly weak
I needed your kiss, I needed your touch
I needed to feel and touch your body till I was completely weak
That was my moment
I looked in a drunken daze
Back at my untidy place
Which almost made me lose face
My immediate craving got the better of me
As I quickly asked if you wanted a cup of tea
Then it was down to business in my bed
Until my sexual hunger was fed
What followed was a night of snoring
No conversation that would have been boring
Our moment was fantastic
Yet sadly very sick
It was only when we woke up
That I saw your beauty from the top
As you drew on your smoke
I read you a verse from my book
You said I picked you up and you felt cheap
What did you expect?
You thought you were intellect
But what you sow is what you reap
And as for the time being
This was our moment
Your time that you lent
To me for free
© Sylvia Chidi- 17 October 2005
poem by Sylvia Chidi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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