The House of the Scarlet Moon
I fell in love with a Chinese girl
Her name was Chen Xiao Fei,
We worked together in Middle School
In the Province of Anhui,
She'd join me in my apartment when
The working day was done,
But never would take me to home to meet
Her mother, Chen Shaojun.
Xiao Fei was going on thirty, which
Had meant, in Chinese terms,
That she was a spinster, on the shelf,
She had no marriage plans,
I asked her once if she'd marry me
But she laughed and said, 'No way!
My mother would jump from the balcony
If I married an old Yang Wei.'
I called in once to the family home
To win her mother round,
She glared at me as I paced the floor,
Her father sat and frowned,
She wouldn't sit at the table while
I stayed there, under her roof,
But screeched at her daughter, in Chinese,
Some slang that was quite uncouth.
She came one day to say, Xiao Fei,
The wedding date was set,
I asked her who was the lucky man -
But she'd not even met him yet!
Her mother had schemed and arranged it all
To thwart what plans we had,
She cried a bucket of silent tears
But would do as her mother said.
She stayed away for a month or two
To let things settle down,
Then married the man that her mother chose
From a village, out of town.
When a month had passed, I was feeling lost
'Til there came a knock at my door,
It was Chen Xiao Fei in some deep dismay
So I sat with her, down on the floor.
She clung on tight to my shoulder, sobbed,
And cried, wouldn't let me go,
The man she'd married was such a brute
As the marks and the bruises showed,
But worse than that, she looked at me
As her eyes had begun to mist,
'I'm having a child, and I don't quite know
If the baby's yours, or his! '
I sat quite shocked in the evening gloom,
And I felt a sudden chill,
'You'll know as soon as the baby's born, '
I said, but my heart stood still.
If she should deliver a foreign child
She'd be left in a deep disgrace,
And her family then would turn their backs
From the horror of 'losing face'.
Our fears were proven a few months on,
The child was a baby boy,
At first the father and parents danced,
They couldn't conceal their joy,
In China, there is the one child rule,
One chance is all that you get,
So girls go missing there all the time
If the father's mind is set.
For sons are valued as girls are not,
A boy can work on the farm,
A girl will grow to be someone's wife,
Will travel away from home.
So often, just when the child is born
The father will wait outside,
The judge and the executioner,
It's often a question of pride.
A boy is swept up in loving arms,
A girl will wait on the thumb,
If the thumb goes down then the baby drowns
Or is dumped in the cinder drum.
If a boy is born with a fatal flaw,
His fate is the same as hers,
Or he may be sold to a heartless soul,
They call it the Chinese Curse.
The boy was fine 'til he opened his eyes
And they saw that his eyes were blue,
His skin was yellow, his hair was black
But the eyes... the eyes... They knew!
Not even a day had passed before
The baby had paid for our sin,
He was sold to a beggar for ten yuan,
A beggar named Sun Lang Lin.
The birth, already forgotten there
Was marked - 'delivered but dead! '
The Doctor was paid a forgetting fee,
As Xiao Fei cried in her bed,
She told me, when she returned to work,
What they'd done with our beautiful son,
She looked aside, avoided my eyes,
Pretended they'd done nothing wrong.
It took me a month to discover the name
Of the beggar, Sun Lang Lin,
I haunted the areas beggars haunt,
But could find no sign of him,
Then just by chance, a crippled child
Who begged by a streetside bin,
Cowered away when I asked her the way
To the beggar called Sun Lang Lin.
She raised a hand to protect herself
At the sound of his hated name,
She said that he'd kicked and he'd beaten her
Had crippled and brought her to shame,
This child was one of a dozen he had
Who begged for him, night to noon,
She whispered his place of ill-fame in my ear,
'The House of the Scarlet Moon'.
I couldn't find anyone willing to talk about
Where this old Tavern was,
I knew it was out in the countryside,
Beside a deserted Mosque.
I travelled by day and I slept rough at night
As I searched in the dusk and the gloom,
Then finally, there in the distance I spied
The House of the Scarlet Moon.
Sun Lang Lin lay in his dirty rags
On a bed on the floor at the back,
I waited 'til midnight, picked up a rock
And I worked out my plan of attack,
Children were crying in fitful sleep
In a room in that dark old den,
I crept through the dark to the crying there
To look for my blue-eyed son.
Around the walls were earthenware jars
And each with a child within,
He'd jammed them in tight, where nothing could grow,
Their legs would be twisted and thin,
This house of horrors and nightmares kept
Its secrets all wrapped in gloom,
My son lay there on a coverlet,
In the House of the Scarlet Moon.
I seized my son, I smashed the jars,
The children fell to the floor,
They each were maimed and deformed, I knew,
They'd never be able to walk,
They'd spend their lives in the gutters for him,
Set up with a begging bowl,
I wondered how people like Sun Lang Lin
Could open the doors to the soul.
He woke, came running right into the room,
And he pulled out a long, sharp knife,
I laid my son on the coverlet
And prepared to fight for my life,
He lunged just once, I stepped aside,
I hit him just once with the rock,
He fell and he didn't get up again
So I picked up my son, and took off.
Once well away in the undergrowth
I stopped and I turned, to see,
A flame was flickering through the roof
Of the Tavern that used to be.
It all went up with a mighty roar
As I hugged my son in the gloom,
There's no more babies, or cripples made
At the House of the Scarlet Moon.
2 December 2008
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Missing Link
A sickly child lie
frail on the sofa in the living room.
A knock on the door,
His mother opened.
The man who entered the child knew it was his father.
Whose child is this?
“It is your youngest son” his mother said.
The children in the street
all had a father; the child had waited for him.
But his father ignored him,
gave chocolate to his sister and brother,
then he drank from a bottle,
his mother threw him out.
Next day asked his mother, ” are you sure he is my father? ”
She slapped her son’s face and cried.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Pearls of Verna Boone
I'd been alone for a year or so
Since Norma Jean had died,
I stayed in the house I'd bought for her
At the end of River Drive,
I'd felt her death as a fatal blow,
A crippling twist of fate,
For Norma Jean was my one true love,
Though I'd met her a little late!
I was past my prime when our eyes had met,
And she'd looked so young to me,
Her eyes had sparkled like diamonds set
As scarabs in sand and sea,
She saw the desert behind my eyes,
The emptiness in my life,
I stumbled over the words, but she
Said 'Yes! ' - She would be my wife!
I didn't know that she carried then
The seeds of a painful death,
Her face was flushed at the altar stone
And she seemed so short of breath,
I thought it merely a passing faint
That excitement had brought on,
As we stood in front of the Minister,
And joined our lives as one.
But then at home, she fell apart,
Collapsed on the kitchen floor,
I saw her lying, and coughing blood
Like I'd never seen before,
The doctor called, and he shook his head
As he left her there in the bed,
'I'm very sorry, ' the doctor sighed,
'But your lovely wife is dead! '
I cried and raged, and swore at fate
I smashed each wedding gift,
I wouldn't go to the funeral
But stayed at home and wept.
I cursed the heavens and thought that hell
Could never have been as bad
As a love that I'd waited a lifetime for,
A love that I'd never had!
The house next door was a rental place,
Stood empty for months that year,
But then a couple had moved on in,
I didn't see him, just her.
I thought that he was a traveller,
Was constantly on the road,
He came at night, and he left at dawn
In a battered and ancient Ford.
I had no reason to talk to them,
I sat at home with my grief,
I wandered out in the garden then
At one with each falling leaf,
But then one day, I heard her there
The other side of the fence,
Breaking her heart, as crying there
She sobbed with vehemence.
After a week of this, I climbed
The fence, and spoke to her,
'Why do you sigh, why do you cry? '
But she cried then all the more.
I walked around and sat with her
Quite late in the afternoon,
She smiled, and dried her eyes, and said,
'My name is Verna Boone! '
She said she'd only been married
Just a year this coming Spring,
But now that she knew the man he was,
Regretted everything,
He'd lost her money, just gambled it,
Had spent it on other girls,
And now they were left with nothing, he
Just wanted her mother's pearls!
'They're all I have to remember her, '
She sobbed, like a frightened child,
'They're worth a lot, but they're more to me, '
She looked at me, and smiled.
She took me inside and pulled them out
Three strings, they were very fine,
'He said that he's going to pawn them! '
Then she put her small hand in mine.
I was sad, alone and vulnerable,
I looked at her lovely curls,
She smiled at me, and she asked me then
If I'd care for her mother's pearls?
'I'll say they're lost, misplaced, I'll say,
He'll rant and rage, and more,
But he won't be able to pawn them now...'
Then she walked me to the door.
I took her home, and I placed the pearls
With the gems my wife had once:
'They'll be all right in the downstairs safe.'
It was then that she saw the gun.
She looked afraid, but she picked it up
And weighed it there in her hand,
I took it gently and locked it up
With the rest of my contraband.
'She must have watched as I spun the dial,
I know - I was such a fool! '
The sergeant sat and he stared at me,
And his stare was distant, cool.
He didn't believe a word I said
I could see that now, I'm done!
They put me back in a cell to wait
To be charged with Murder One!
She told them I had come over when
Her husband came home one night,
Waving a gun and ranting, then
Her husband put up a fight!
I'd shot him once through the head, she said,
Then taken her on the bed,
Stolen a fine pearl necklace,
Then beaten and left her for dead!
They found the gun on the floor, they said,
I knew that the gun was mine,
They found the pearls in my safe, they said,
It was only a question of time.
She sat at the back of the court while I
Was stood in the prisoner's dock,
And I noticed she wore her mother's pearls
With a nice new evening frock.
10 August 2009
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Crazy Lady of Jiao Ba Lu
Jiao Ba Lu is an ancient street,
The cobbles are overgrown,
A few mean dwellings still bar their doors
The others are falling down;
They say a woman who lives down there
Is three parts gone to the moon,
While children mutter a curse, or pray
When she stumbles out in the gloom.
For Gao Fang Fang has pure white hair
That blows like a ghost in the breeze,
Her eyes are wild, and she never smiles,
And she often falls to her knees;
She falls to her knees with a cry of pain
At visions she only sees,
And wails at night when the moon is bright,
Or shadows form through the trees.
Over the hearth of her meagre home
Is a picture of Mao Zedong,
And she is there in the picture too
A girl with an armband on,
A girl with the light of reforming zeal
That shines from her hard black eyes,
Her hair tucked under a forage cap
With the rest of ‘The Helmsman's' lies.
D'eng Xiao Bei was her only love,
So young in those distant days,
But he was the son of a landlord who
Was threatened to mend his ways,
They took his land and his money too
And cast him out in the rain,
While D'eng Xiao Bei hid his head in sin,
And cried for his father's pain.
Then one dread day in the neighborhood
The Red Guards came in force,
So Gao Fang Fang put her armband on
But D'eng just hid in the house;
They dragged him out as a traitor then,
And put him up on the stage,
But D'eng Xiao Bei had nothing to say
To the Guards in their rabid rage.
They tied his arms, they made him kneel,
They beat him with sticks and a club,
‘Your father, he was a landlord pig,
So you are a turtle's egg! '
They tied a sign on his chest that said:
‘I love not the Chairman Mao! '
And tried to make him confess his sins;
They'd still be waiting now!
While others pelted with rocks and eggs
Fang Fang looked on with shame,
She'd loved Xiao Bei with a burning love,
But nothing was now the same,
Her comrades urged her to show her zeal
To punish the ‘running dog',
So she took a breath, picked up a rock
To fling at her one true love.
The rock was sharp, bitter and hard
And tore one eye from its core,
D'eng stared at her with his one good eye
As his blood seeped out on the floor,
Gao Fang Fang gasped, then looked aghast
And paled at the thing she'd done,
Then watched him die as the others cried:
‘Long life to Mao Zedong! '
Fang Fang went home like one deranged,
And flung the band from her wrist,
So soon, in front of the People's Court
She was termed a ‘revisionist! '
For ten long years in a prison cell
She wept and cried: ‘ Enough! '
But the years did nothing to soothe the pain
Of killing her one true love.
And still she lives at Jiao Ba Lu,
Alone, in the dark she cries
In a part of town that's coming down,
Just like ‘The Helmsman's' lies.
Those days have gone, but the lady wails
As she works away at the loom,
While the neighbours shake their heads and say:
‘She's three parts gone to the moon! '
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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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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William House and Family
Come all kind friends, both far and near,
Come listen to me and you shall hear --
It's of a family and their fate,
All about them I will relate.
They once did live at Edgerton,
They once did live at Muskegon,
From there they went to Chicago,
Which proved their fatal overthrow.
It was William House's family,
As fine a family as you see --
His family was eleven in all,
I do not think it was very small.
Two children died some years ago,
Before they went to Chicago,
Five children there he had with him,
When death his home there enters in.
The small-pox then was raging there,
And Oh! it would not their house spare,
For all but one was sick of them,
A dreadful house it must have been.
The eldest girl was married then,
The eldest boy was in Michigan,
The second boy he was at home,
And took care of them all alone.
His father and his mother dear,
And dear sister, too, I hear,
Were very sick and in his care,
And no kind friends to help him there:
Two little brothers, and a baby too,
Made six in all -- what could he do,
He had to take care of them all,
The baby, too, was very small.
As he would go to his father's bed,
And try to soothe his aching head,
"My son, I pray you leave me, do
Go take care of poor mother, too."
"Your mother and sister need your care,
And your little infant brother there;
Oh! Charlie, Charlie, take care of them,
My son, do all for them you can."
It seemed as though he did not know
That his poor soul so soon must go,
And leave his little ones he loved,
To go to that bright world above.
But God he called his soul away,
It had to leave, it could not stay --
He never more on earth will be,
His soul is from sin and sorrow free.
Charles helped the sexton, I am told,
To lay his form in the coffin cold --
How sad, how sad, poor soul was he,
When last his father's form did see.
Minnie May House she had to go,
And leave her friends that loved her so --
She was a girl in her teens,
A lovely flower as e'er was seen.
Minnie and her mother lay on one bed,
And when Charles said, "our Minnie is dead,"
His mother then she did grow wild,
And early after knew her child.
They buried Minnie by her father's side,
And left them there where they had died --
Charles took his mother and brothers then
And brought them back to Michigan.
For the mother and the baby too,
Kind friends did all that they could do,
But those poor souls they could not save,
For now they're sleeping in their grave.
Oh! what a noble son was he,
His age was then only sixteen --
Charles House's name I have told before
God bless his soul forever more.
poem by Julia A Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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All I wanted is for you to love me
All I wanted is for you to love me! ! ! !
She had her when she was only 15 years old, and her baby was so beautiful! many people told her that, and she smiled tho but! ! ! ! in the back of her mind she hated her child tho.From taking thee attention away that she craved! ! ! ! ! and she was thinking it will never be about her, but always about her so called beautiful daughter. Now as time went along her mother blamed her for the men that went away and didn't stay the mother claimed that men would say, that her child act so childish each and everyday that there developed a frown on the mother face like her daughter was the case that her men friends went away, but it was always how she miss treated her daughter in there faces like calling her Miss. little red **** In front of her male acquaintance and she would laugh! ! ! ! when they didn't think it was funny, she ask for them to leave, and they would say you crazy! ! ! If that was my baby you would regret the day you ever mat me. And when they left she start yelling at her baby telling her look what the **** you did again! ! ! ! Thee anger, the rage, the look she gave. She grabbed her baby slammed! ! ! ! ! her on her bottom in a chair and piece, by piece, start cutting her hair. Telling her you think your better then me! ! ! ! you think your prettier, then me, you red **** You think you can compete with me **** even tho she's only eight years old. Talked about her birthmark on her feet and said thats the start of you being ugly, and the daughter just cried! ! ! ! The mother said you make me do these things to you because you think you so got dam! ! ! beautiful.
Years later a history of events occurred thur out the years and now the daughter is now 15 and her mom hating on her body, that she covered up all the mirrors or gave them away so her daughter wouldn't be able to look at her face. What ever the daughter can see thur the mother trash that too the daughter asked why are you so mean and taking everything because this is mine **** you always think your cutter then me! ! ! You red ****you want to hit me so I can **** up your face! ! ! ! wearing your tight jeans acting like you so much better then me you red **** And the daughter didn't say a word she just looked at her and her mom responded you looking down on me and the daughter responded no! ! ! ! Then responded I should have gave you away when the doctor placed you in my ***** hand, and she went on to say that day I brought you home I should took your clothes off and left you in the cold! ! ! ! ! you red ***** should be thankful and grateful that I didn't do that **** to you I'm only telling you this for your own *** good! ! ! then her mom said you want to hit me don't you **** and the daughter responded no but I'm sad for you tho, that you couldn't be the mother I needed you to be, and it hurts it really hurts, and the mom responded **** you **** and the mom said what is that chair doing in your room! ! ! ! I just wanted you to love me. The daughter stood up in the chair the mom responded **** get down off my **** the daughter said I would never be loved by you the mother said you got that right! ! ! the daughter started to cry and the mom responded you ugly **** daughter went to her pocket grabbed the knife and cut her own wrist I had to do this JUST TO GET AWAY FRom you, you jealousy **** she smiled and fell to the floor bleeding to death. Then the mom started yelling noooooooooo my baby my beautiful baby girl! ! ! ! ! ! !
Clarence Williams of greater
poem by Clarence Williams
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The Forsaken
Holy Mother of God, Merciful Mary. Hear me! I am very weary. I have come
from a village miles away, all day I have been coming, and I ache for such
far roaming. I cannot walk as light as I used, and my thoughts grow confused.
I am heavier than I was. Mary Mother, you know the cause!
Beautiful Holy Lady, take my shame away from me! Let this fear
be only seeming, let it be that I am dreaming. For months I have hoped
it was so, now I am afraid I know. Lady, why should this be shame,
just because I haven't got his name. He loved me, yes, Lady, he did,
and he couldn't keep it hid. We meant to marry. Why did he die?
That day when they told me he had gone down in the avalanche, and could not
be found until the snow melted in Spring, I did nothing. I could not cry.
Why should he die? Why should he die and his child live? His little child
alive in me, for my comfort. No, Good God, for my misery! I cannot face
the shame, to be a mother, and not married, and the poor child to be reviled
for having no father. Merciful Mother, Holy Virgin, take away this sin I did.
Let the baby not be. Only take the stigma off of me!
I have told no one but you, Holy Mary. My mother would call me 'whore',
and spit upon me; the priest would have me repent, and have
the rest of my life spent in a convent. I am no whore, no bad woman,
he loved me, and we were to be married. I carried him always in my heart,
what did it matter if I gave him the least part of me too? You were a virgin,
Holy Mother, but you had a son, you know there are times when a woman
must give all. There is some call to give and hold back nothing.
I swear I obeyed God then, and this child who lives in me is the sign.
What am I saying? He is dead, my beautiful, strong man! I shall never
feel him caress me again. This is the only baby I shall have.
Oh, Holy Virgin, protect my baby! My little, helpless baby!
He will look like his father, and he will be as fast a runner and as good
a shot. Not that he shall be no scholar neither. He shall go to school
in winter, and learn to read and write, and my father will teach him to carve,
so that he can make the little horses, and cows, and chamois,
out of white wood. Oh, No! No! No! How can I think such things,
I am not good. My father will have nothing to do with my boy,
I shall be an outcast thing. Oh, Mother of our Lord God, be merciful,
take away my shame! Let my body be as it was before he came.
No little baby for me to keep underneath my heart for those long months.
To live for and to get comfort from. I cannot go home and tell my mother.
She is so hard and righteous. She never loved my father, and we were born
for duty, not for love. I cannot face it. Holy Mother, take my baby away!
Take away my little baby! I don't want it, I can't bear it!
And I shall have nothing, nothing! Just be known as a good girl.
Have other men want to marry me, whom I could not touch, after having known
my man. Known the length and breadth of his beautiful white body,
and the depth of his love, on the high Summer Alp, with the moon above,
and the pine-needles all shiny in the light of it. He is gone, my man,
I shall never hear him or feel him again, but I could not touch another.
I would rather lie under the snow with my own man in my arms!
So I shall live on and on. Just a good woman. With nothing to warm my heart
where he lay, and where he left his baby for me to care for. I shall not be
quite human, I think. Merely a stone-dead creature. They will respect me.
What do I care for respect! You didn't care for people's tongues
when you were carrying our Lord Jesus. God had my man give me my baby,
when He knew that He was going to take him away. His lips will comfort me,
his hands will soothe me. All day I will work at my lace-making,
and all night I will keep him warm by my side and pray the blessed Angels
to cover him with their wings. Dear Mother, what is it that sings?
I hear voices singing, and lovely silver trumpets through it all. They seem
just on the other side of the wall. Let me keep my baby, Holy Mother.
He is only a poor lace-maker's baby, with a stain upon him,
but give me strength to bring him up to be a man.
poem by Amy Lowell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I met the girl with the world inside her head
I met the girl with the world inside her head
She said “ it will be safe there”
And I just knew that I could trust her
I met the father of the girl with the world inside her head
He said “I gave her the world because I made her a promise”
And I just had to look up to him
I met the mother of the girl with the world inside her head
She told me that she had married the right man
And it sounded like she always knew she would
I took the girl with the world inside her head to the next town
She told me “ I feel I must close me eyes and I must not listen”
And we sat in silence
I married the girl with the world inside her head
We lived a perfect life
And I just knew it would turn out that way
I fathered the child of the girl with the world inside her head
I am reassured that our child will be safe with us
And I never really imagined anything different
I looked upon the mother who gave everything to the child
Until the day she died
Until the day the child asked for the world
In grief I looked upon the world and cursed it
poem by Lindsay Crosby
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From the Diary of a Mimes
At my grandmothers house, you will see a hundred years of family portraits. We are a family of mimes. The portraits are of mimes.
You may ask why would someone wish to be a mime? For it is a limited existence beings that a mime s a simile of a single frame photograph. Look at the pictures at grandmothers house, do you feel the pain? This is my pain.
Becoming a mime.
I was six or seven years old. Grandmother and I were sitting in her living room, I had slept over at her house for a weekend while mom, dad and little brother tend to other things. Grandmother was in an odd mood today. She looked at her pictures and smiled some. And cried a little." I think its time you wore your mime face." She said. Today you will learn how to become a mime." So I said" Yes madman she proceeded to make up my face.
As she put on my makeup she started to cry. She cried for a long time. I was a little girl I started crying as well. I could not watch my grandmother cry without shedding tears of my own. So we sat and cried.
'Why are we crying' I asked? 'Well dear, sometimes life deals you a hard enough blow that even a mime will cry." I said 'Ok.'I was soon to find out what she meant. This is the day I learned a safe place for a heart to be. I learned that a person could freeze emotions and save them for future use. Yes place them in a jar, to be opened at an appropriate time. For that is what I do. You see I write a sad story, open a jar of tears and cry for a minute.
So after a good cry, grandmother took my hand and led me to the foyer wondered why I had to wear my mime face. Well grandmother had hers on, so I thought it must be a family thing, and I did not question. We sat under the foyer, was hot.New Orleans is a hot place at certain times of the year. There was no breeze, was still as could be. Nothing moved, except perhaps the webs a few lucky spiders, the ones who had prey to close in on.
'God bless mother nature, child. Its infinite wisdom, allows all creatures sustenance 'Uhh grandmother, that is a spider. Kill it, mom does.''No." She says, this is his house. If he were in mine, then I would kill him, but he lives here and kills insects.'
'You say he" I asked." How do you know it is a male spider? " She sighs." I do not know.' So I ask." Then why do you say it is a male? " It is taken for granted that any unknown sex is referred to as he. God is male." I answer" God could be a woman. I do not think anyone knows Gods sex grandmother. The world would be better if God was a female.''Perhaps so child." She answers, " Perhaps so.'
'Your father used to say that when he was your age. Always a philosophy with him." And her eye tiered up again. But I saw her turn to ice of a sudden. The tears dried. Then a long white car pulled up in the driveway, grandmother took my hand and we walked to the car. A man in a grey uniform opened the door and we sat inside. 'I will remember every detail of this day. For this is where my life changed.'
The car drove us to a big fancy building, it was full of mimes dressed in black. Even as a child I realized that something was wrong, so many mimes, all crying and made up in misery faces. I wondered why. They all parted as grandmother and I entered the building.
It was an odd place. Sad sounding music reminded me of harmonies of sorrow, organs and moans and tears. There were 3 pretty boxes in the center of the room. People were all around, most of them mimes, most were crying. 'Grand mother, what is in the boxes? 'I asked." Why do all the mimes look into them and cry? ''Never mind my child. Just be a mime.'
'Well if my daddy was here he would pick me up and I could see what was in the boxes." My grandmother looked down at me and started to cry, and the tears flowed." Brace yourself girl." She said. Then she picked me up. Eagerly I looked over the side of the box. In it was the reason I became a mime. I saw my fathers body made up to be a mime laying with his hands together as if he were praying. My brother and mother the same in other boxes. I knew they had passed away.
It was hard on a little girl, to have it etched into her mind.I kicked and screamed till grandmother set me on my feet. I ran out of the room and never spoke another word until this day.
I do not like this one much.
Stories Of Hope Series #1 living in poverty-the trapper and family
Born high in the mountains of Tennessee
With no running water, or electricity.
Living in rags that her father found in the woods
Was her only salvation, her only goods.
They put her in pampers that they had found
Dirty and filthy and pulled from the ground.
A rock stove and firewood
They would eat when they could.
He did fishing and trapping just to survive.
The closest neighbor was twenty miles away
By the time he walked there he would have to stay.
The neighbor would take all that he trapped
In return give him food, clothing, ammunition and fat.
The neighbor then told him:
This is no way to raise a child.
You’ve been in the mountains quite a while.
Things have changed drastically
In school is where this child should be.
This child must learn how to read and write
What you’re doing to her, just isn’t right.
He packed up his knapsack and up the mountain he fled
Putting her with other children, was something he did dread.
He finally got home where his wife and child awaited
He looked at them and then hesitated.
With gleams in their eyes of the goodies he brought.
The child looked in the bag for a doll that she sought.
Not finding the doll in the bag, she turned and walked
From the room looking so sad
She went outside deep in the woods
her head hung down and there she stood.
The tears started to form in her eyes
And then she did cry.
Her father saw this and his heart broke in two
Now he knew what he had to do.
The following morning he went back down the mountain again
To speak to his neighbor, his only friend.
He asked his friend what should I do
My daughter is suffering and feeling blue.
I don’t have the money to buy her things, or send her to school
And living in the mountains is not the right tool.
He said: you are a natural born mountain man
And for you I do have a plan.
How would you like to teach others how to survive
And into your mountains they would climb.
You can teach them how to hunt and fish
This is on a city dwellers wish list.
You will get paid for what you love to do
And to your heart you will be true.
Looking at his family and the way they lived
An education for his child he had to give.
His friend set up flyers and posted them all over town
And on the internet this mountain man was found.
He brought his child down from the mountain top
And until she had an education he would not stop.
She stayed with this neighbor and friend
And saw all that she had missed
She was in heaven, she was in bliss.
Her father now made enough to continue her education
And to learn those golden rules, now he knew she had the tools.
She grew up with hope in their heart
And her father and neighbor gave her the start.
Now don’t ever think that there is nothing
That you can’t do.
With hope in your heart, you can follow thru.
HOPE IS THE KEY TO SET OURSELVES FREE.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Born To Be Ransomed
Born to be ransomed,
Born for a reason,
On one side Love,
On the other side Security,
Mabey,
Taken to be placed elsewhere,
Or,
Mabey,
Taken to be placed with them,
Born to be ransomed,
Held ransomed by those,
For security measures of the father and mother,
So,
They are called on by the beckoning,
Of,
Those holding child held by ransomed,
Is what people do when child means,
A lot to mother and father,
Love and security in family keepings,
Born to be ransomed,
With intent to use child,
By the takers of child,
To profit and gain,
For themselves in lifes times,
When child born is then used,
Till,
Mother and father is killed,
And,
Child is then raised in a racket,
For,
What mother and father were,
And,
Left for the child when child grown,
In giving is receiving,
All that has good intentions,
Gives for good reasons,
Yet,
Why one is born to be ransomed,
Is,
The what see's and pre-desires,
The placement and life,
Of,
What two in love have made,
The unborn child then becomes,
The ransom of what wants,
What,
The two have in love and wealth,
When this goes on and child is grown,
The eyes that see and yet do not understand,
Is,
The child raised seeing all,
From,
The good ways,
To the bad ways,
To the cruel ways,
To,
The crimes committed and seen,
Is,
The eyes of seeing,
From,
Been born in a world disrupted,
Is,
A child born and ransomed,
What is of matter,
Mattering to two,
Two in love,
That,
Choose to be one,
One as in a couple,
To matter and be,
For,
What matters to them,
Is,
What brings matter of two,
To,
Become a matter of one,
A,
Child born of two,
Yet,
Now matter's to none,
But,
What ransoms the child out,
Till,
The child grew to be,
And,
Left them all behind,
Knowing,
Mother and father are dead,
Living,
Life knowing too much,
Just,
From been the ransom,
The ransom,
Of,
All,
That,
Is,
Of,
Mother and father,
Till,
All,
Of,
Mother and father's,
Income and places,
Was,
Spent and giving to others,
Tis,
Then,
Ransomed child grown,
Can,
Leave,
With noting,
But themselve,
To have some kind,
Of life,
Somewhere else,
Faraway!
poem by Ellen Ni Bheachain
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Teen Birth (narrated)
She took the test and found out for sure
So she went to her mother and said:
I have a problem and I don’t know what to do
You had always said that I could confide in you
I made a mistake: and now my stomach is full.
The boy says he’s too young to raise a family
Then he turned his back, and walked away from me.
Well my daughter! There are two options that I see
You give birth and raise it, or give it to a childless family.
Now if you decide to keep it, because of your
Christian upbringing.
Your father and I will help you in all that we can
But you have to put your part, and give a helping hand.
And if you put it up for adoption which will
Be the hardest thing to do.
But whatever your decision we will support you.
Her parents then told her: let the doctors put you to sleep
For if you see the child you will begin to weep.
And if you must stay awake, then close
Your eyes so you don’t see, for a newborn child
Has a hypnotic glance, so turn your back it’s your only chance.
When it was time for her to conceive and she was wheeled
Into the room- her mothers words rang like a bell.
What do you decide and who do you tell?
And when she saw this child come out of her womb
She then felt that it was much too soon.
She turned her eyes away, but recalled that dreadful day
When the boy turned his back. And right then she knew
Exactly what she had to do.
She took the baby in her arms, and looked into its eyes.
The hypnotic glance was there
And with this child- her life she’d share.
poem by Louis Rams
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Being A Mother
MOTHER! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
MOTHER IS A WORD
MOTHER IS A PERSON
MOTHER IS A WOMEN
BUT WAT IS REALLY A MOTHER?
MOTHER! ! ! ! ! !
MOTHER IS WOMEN WHO GIVES BIRTH
NO........
MOTHER IS A WOMEN WHO CARES OF HER BABY
MOTHER IS A WOMEN WHO IS WILLING TO GIVE HER LIFE FOR THEIR BABY'S
ANY WOMEN CAN HAVE A BABY
ANY WOMEN CAN GIVE BIRTH
ANY WOMEN CAN BE CALLED MOM
BUT ONLY A REAL WOMEN
ONLY A REAL MOTHER CAN TAKE OVER HER RESPOSABILITIES
ONLY A WOMEN CAN DO WHATS BEST FOR THEIR CHILD
A MOTHER! ! ! ! ! ! !
A MOTHER LIKE ME
A MOTHER LIKE U
A MOTHER WHO CRIES FOR THEIR CHILD
A MOTHER WHO PRAYS FOR THEIR CHILD
A MOTHER WHO GIVES HER LIFE FOR THEIR CHILD
A MOTHER WHO STARVES TO FEED HER CHILD
A MOTHER WHO IS WILLING TO SLEEP IN THE COLD FOR THEIR CHILD,
A MOTHER WHO MAKES HER CHILDREN FEEL SAFE IN HER ARMS,
BEING THAT MOTHER! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
BEING THAT MOTHER TAKES ALOT OF WOMEN N A PERSON
BEING A MOTHER........
poem by Leticia Sanchez
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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
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Lost & Found Pt.2 - Found Child
A baby born into addiction,
Fighting for his life before it began.
Held by his mother just once in his life,
Then he is taken from her hands.
Taken to be given a chance
To be healthy outside and in.
A chance to grow big and strong,
Free from his mother's sins.
The child has a family now
And a very loving home.
They took him in for what he was
And raised him as their own.
Years have passed since his birth
And he questions who he really is.
Looking at his loving parents
He knows thier features are not his.
One night with the television on,
And his family sitting around,
The news man tells a story
Of a tragedy across town.
A woman found dead at home.
In her arm was a syringe.
The woman's picture flashed on screen
And made his mother cringe.
He could feel something too;
Some sort of strange connection.
Then he heard a soft whimper
Coming from his mom's direction.
He softly asked her what was wrong.
She couldn't look him in the eye.
She said I have someting to tell you son.
Then she began to cry.
All the questions you asked of us;
If you were ours, or another's.
You see, the woman who died tonight...
She was your true mother.
poem by Joseph A. Solis
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New born
"Wake up, fast" I was shaken from deep sleep
Remain awake and be fit enough to keep
And run for any help they may require
Mother was on heels and just passed on fire
"What a man you are "your wife has delivered a baby"
Finish everything and report that you are ready
We are rushing to hospital to welcome new born
Now you may be under control and governed
Mother smiled wearily but it was fact
I was still running careless and not serious enough to act
What she must be in mind I failed to know
But of course it strict order to go
What an anxiety to feel as father
Child was asleep but cared by mother
Taken in lap and covered with smooth cloth
There was deep smile on her face and seemed happy both
This may be called glorious day for all mothers
As their life mission is fulfilled like others
What if later on children desert or don't look after!
Now was the time to enjoy happy moments and roar in laughter
Beautiful child opened his eyes and cried
Wife carried him to give me and carefully tried
Mother stared at me silently but happily smiled
New entry was confirmed and filed
You become responsible person all of sudden
Since yesterday you were careless and not taken note of even
Today you are father of child and everybody wants to share moment
"Congrats dear" not a single soul will be left to remind of development
I may be unconcerned as all these happenings
But surely thanked God for new beginning
The sun has shown over my carrier
Nice label of father has been put and removed all other barriers
I shared eye contact with wife
She was elated and felt the taste of real life
She may have lot more to do with new born
But now I was laden with lots of responsibility and concern
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Stories Of Hope Series #11 Adopted Child
The child was brought into this world
By an un wanting mother, did not have
any family, no sisters, no brothers.
But was adopted from birth by a woman
Who was seeking a child, and didn’t
Have any of her own for quite awhile.
This child was loved, like he could never know
Because as a mother her love she did show.
Never had a need or want for anything in life
Never knew about the mothers struggles or strife.
The child at times would question as to why
he was from a one parent family.
She told him that it was the way she wanted it to be.
She loved this child more than life itself
And in her heart this child would dwell.
Then one day before high school graduation
He had needed papers of when and where
He was born documentation.
He knew his mother kept the important
Papers in a metal box- which was always kept locked.
He found the key to the box, and opened it
Up with care, and with his mother the reason
He would share.
He found an envelope dated 1/29/92
Which was his birth date, that much he knew.
He opened the envelope and saw the heading
“ certificate of birth” on the first paper he took out.
As he opened it up and started to read
Where it said parents names, was blank as can be.
He waited for his mother to get home
And then the papers would be shown.
When she got home he asked her why there was no names?
She put her head down and said: she was to blame.
You see: you was left on the hospital steps
With a note attached to you blanket saying:
“She could not take care of you
And this was the best that she could do.”
Being a nurse in that hospital, I fell in love with you
And I went through the process to adopt you.
I have loved you from the start, and you’ve
Filled my soul and heart.
No one can love you more than I
And I will love you till the day I die.
The tears started rolling down her face
And he kissed her tears away.
He said: you are the only mother I have ever known
And because of you, I have a family.
“ that could never change for me”.
I’m so sorry that I never told you my son
And for any hurt that I may have done.
I just wanted to protect you
That is all I wanted to do.
They both shed their tears, and comforted their fears.
He said: I decided that I would go to the court of records
And change it for all to see, that you are
The only mother for me.
On his birth certificate they attached a stipulation
Which read: this woman became his mother from
The moment that he was found
And this case has become world renown.
Because of the hope she had in her heart
Her and her son got a brand new start.
HOPE IS THE KEY TO SET YOURSELF FREE
poem by Louis Rams
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Family History
My father left when I was one,
Or maybe two - I don't recall,
I have no memory of him now,
No memory then, now none at all.
It didn't seem important then
I had my mother, she had me,
And Uncle George would call each day,
Call by most nights, and stay for tea.
I wasn't even curious,
My world was perfect as it was,
We lived beside a village green
And travelled by the village bus.
Our house was large, a mansion set
In Parklands, much too large for us,
Whole wings were closed and boarded in,
My mother said, 'it makes less fuss! '
It wasn't 'til I went to school
That doubts arose about my kin,
The boys would taunt and tease me there,
Would comment on my yellow skin.
They called me 'Squinty' for my eyes,
They looked so different then, to them,
My hair was black and very straight:
'You'll never make an Englishman! '
I asked my mother why I looked
So different, just like chalk and cheese,
She smiled and held me close to her,
And said: 'Your father was Chinese! '
'I met him through your Uncle George,
They served together in some war,
He charmed me once, but then he left,
Went off to fight for Chiang-Kai-shek.'
'I thought that he'd return one day
But truth to tell, he never did,
I heard that he'd been killed before
The White Army had turned and fled.'
She mentioned words I'd never heard
'Formosa', 'Tao' and 'Mao Zedong',
'Long March', 'Red Army', words that I
Remembered when no longer young.
I grew determined then to seek
The truth behind my history,
To find my father, where he lay,
Tear back the shroud of mystery.
'Don't do it, son, ' said Uncle George,
'Leave sleeping dogs to sleep the day,
For once you rouse them, sleeping dogs
Will never cease to bark and bay.'
'He's right, ' my mother said, her mouth
Was set, and she looked awful grim,
'You'll bring the terrors of the night
Down on us, if you look for him! '
My mind was set, I disagreed,
With all the folly of the young,
I thought that I could spend my need
And so made plans to see Taiwan.
I only got as far as London,
There I went to the G.R.O.,
Asked for the Births and Deaths they kept
To settle the questions I should know.
But when the book was placed before me
Words - they swam before my eyes,
The father stated at my birth
Was George Hubertus Syndon Wise!
I faltered then, and nearly fell
My heart it plunged to the floor, and then,
The mother plainly written there
Was one they called Wang Shu Qian.
My legs were weak, I barely stood,
My father was an Englishman,
I took a breath and walked the street...
My mother, a daughter of the Han.
I went back home to the mansion then
Ignored my mother upon the stairs,
Headed right up to the West Wing floor
They had boarded and banned me from, for years.
Tore the boards from the door and entered,
Thought I would find just cobwebs there,
But saw bright lights, and heard soft music,
A woman sat in an old wing chair.
I knew, the moment those almond eyes
Met mine, I looked on my mother then,
The tears ran down from her high cheek bones
To stain her dress, Wang Shu Qian.
She'd lived forever behind these doors
All boarded in for a secret's sake,
And George had been with her, now and then
My father, living his life - a fake!
But all about there were artifacts,
Screens and parchments and vellum scripts,
Priceless furniture, paintings, figures,
Dragons, pearls, and the odd Phoenix.
George came stumbling up the stairs
His face dead white when he saw me there,
'My boy... I told you...' he said, then stopped
As grey ran worrying through his hair.
The hoard was that from a Chinese palace,
Wang Shu Qian was a keeper there,
They'd fled the rape of the communists
Taken their baggage with Chiang Kai shek.
'When things are settled we'll give it back, '
My mother told me in Pu Tong Hua,
George translated her every sentence,
Love shone out from his eyes for her.
'Her name is top of their wanted list,
They hired assassins to search for her,
We thought it best to concoct those lies
To protect you from the world out there.'
My sister took on the role of mother,
You were only a baby then,
While Shu Qian despaired to hold you,
Show you love as her only son.
The hoard has since been returned to China,
Both my mothers live openly now,
I've been taking a course in language
Coming to grips with Pu Tong Hua.
My family history seems complete,
I know as much as I need to know,
The dogs are sleeping, skeletons rest
And I won't disturb their sleep - No How!
(Note: The Chinese pronounce Chiang Kai shek
as Jiang kuh sher.
Pu Tong Hua = Pu Tong Hwa = Beijing Dialect.
Wang Shu Qian = Wong Shoe Chee-en) .
25 December 2008
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love Of A Parent
They had married at a very young age
At the time they thought it was a game.
They had been together for a long time
and he thought that everything would be fine.
They had lived together for two years or more
And they thought they knew the score.
At seventeen years of age they felt they knew it all
And life was to have a ball.
With part time jobs they paid their bills
Living together was such a thrill.
Not having to worry about a curfew hour
Now ' they had all the power'.
Going out partying every weekend
Not thinking of the money that they spent.
Coming home late at night, being drunk
They would start to fight.
She started feeling some menstruation pain
And from this point on their lives would change.
She went to her doctor to check it out
Pregnant she was - there was no doubt.
Now their eyes opened to the fact
From this point on there was no turning back.
They now had a child on the way
And they could no longer go out to play.
He got a full time job and straightened up his act
And a better position he would have to attack.
He went back to school To get a better education
And to give his wife and child all that he could give
And with both their incomes they would have to live.
She worked for seven months till she
Could work no longer, and to get their house in order.
When she went to the hospital because her time was due
She found out she was having not one but two.
She gave birth to a beautiful boy and girl
He was a diamond and she a pearl.
The most precious babies you'd ever want to see
And he was the proud father - as proud as can be.
They struggled like most couples do
But he was determined to see it through.
She took her children and held them tight
For in their faces she saw their fathers might.
His love so strong for his family
And this is what they all did see.
And the rest is history.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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