Would He Even Know Me Now?
The past is full of shades and shapes
Of people, come and gone,
'Whatever happened to so and so, '
We say, when the mood is on;
But closer still, our parents live
In the warmth of our hearts and minds,
And my father often returns to me
To haunt my quiet times.
How do you deal with a love so deep
That it tears your life apart?
The day that he left, he took a piece
Of my ever caring heart,
He died, and so did I that day,
But I couldn't even cry,
A loss so great to a fickle fate -
I wept, though my eyes were dry.
Though that was twenty years ago
I remember in every way,
He'll always be just the way he was
On that final, desperate day;
But I have changed, I'm older now
And life has never been kind,
The years have indelibly traced their path
On my face, my body and mind.
My father knew me way back when,
A child, a teen, young man,
I hovered around the forty mark
When he left in the Lord's great plan;
But one thing worries my troubled mind
And it haunts my thoughts somehow,
If we were to pass on the street today
Would he even know me now?
5 March 2008
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Dead Boys Poem
The child sits and weeps,
How could this be all that matters,
Why did this have to hurt so deep,
How could this be life?
The child sits with the pain inside,
He sits with his heart in his chest,
‘How could I have died? ’
Is all he thinks, he forgets the rest.
The child’s eyes closed so tight,
His fists clenched so strong
He feels the night,
He knows everything that happened was wrong.
The child stands and looks into the houses light
He stares at not the window,
Not at the sight,
Yet only for the weeping widow.
The child stands holding the gun,
The gun he died holding,
As he remembers his father killing him, his only son
He remembers his father scolding.
He knows he took a life,
Yet he knows his father took his,
He remembers not the taking of his father’s life,
Only the pain of his father stealing his.
His eyes so dark,
His mind so lost,
His hand tracing deaths mark,
As he remembers it’s cost.
He remembers the scene, the time,
He remembers the look in his father’s face,
He remembers doing the crime,
He remembers seeing the pain in his father’s face.
But then his memory stops,
And reality takes place,
For this is when he dropped,
This is when life left his face.
He walks past,
To eternity; to roam
Of all his memories this shall be his last
For this is the dead boy’s poem.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Friends Back In My Prime Years
My friends back in my prime years I never did disown
It's just that I live far from them and apart we have grown
We drank and played football together but our separate ways we've gone
And we have forged new friendships and life of course goes on.
My friends back in my prime years may now look a bit gray
And they might not know me or I might not know them if by chance we met today
In my memory they have remained young but in reality
The years have left their mark on them as the years have left their mark on me.
Old father time the aloof one to anyone doesn't bow
And some of my friends of my prime years may be grand parents now
Perhaps they now are showing their age and time has left them slow
They could run fast as I recall some twenty years ago.
My friends back in my prime years I may now not recognize
For time leaves it's mark on all of us I've come to realize
I drunk beer with them in the pub and with them played football
And that was many years ago as I can well recall.
poem by Francis Duggan
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It takes three to make a family
(The Mistress or mother)
My son was a gift,
But his father didn't think so,
He left me alone,
With his son I mind you,
I was just a girl,
And he a man,
He did not care,
He left me bowed eyes and broken,
A Lord was he and I Mistress was I,
We were in two different worlds,
Seperated by our familes,
But our son not like us,
A son forced to see his parents like this,
I can still do te best for him,
His father is a monster not a man,
I am scared for my son,
What of his life?
No, I must do my best for him,
If I don't I'll let both of us down,
Years have past and now my son is a man,
I'm dying slowly,
I don't want my son to worry,
I know that I'm on my deathbed,
And I'm as king forJesus.
(Lord or father)
I did not leave her,
She left me,
I couldn't find her,
I wanted my son,
She didn't give him,
Now she's gone and my son with me,
My son's mother was my late wife,
I wanted them both,
But she sought me to be a demon,
Lies upon lies,
I was persuaded from my mother,
My wife listened to our converesation,
Many years later my son is married,
Now I'm going to meet my wife,
Together in heaven,
We have all eternity,
Jesus please keep our son.
(Son)
I am a man who loves,
Mom and dad didn't know,
I am the birth of their future,
They died without knowing me,
I am their son,
But all their time was fighting,
Mentally and emotional,
I spent my childhood afraid of them,
On a nevering chase against time,
My family will teach and give me love,
Years, many, many, years later,
I am a great grandfather,
Now and finally I am on my deathbed,
And I'm happy,
A tear has fallen out my eye,
I am now ready to reunite with,
Both my mother and father,
Jesus thank you for bringing,
The family together at last.
poem by Qeeony Luv
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Father I Still Love You
I tried so hard to love you
But you never really cared
I tried so hard to trust you
But you were never really there
I wanted you to love me
But your heart had grown so cold
I wanted you to play with me
But money was your only goal
And now that I've grown older
And I look back on the years
I remember all the anger
The hurt the pain the tears
Father I forgive you
For all those wasted years
And I try not to remember
All the hurt the pain the tears
But father just please tell me
Did you ever love me once
Or was I just like leftovers
That you throw out after lunch
Father I still love you
And I'll never let that die
But father just please look at me
Say you love me to my eye
Father I must be honest
When you left I found another
My Father up in Heaven
And Jesus my loving Brother
They were the ones who loved me
When you had never cared
They were the ones who saved me
From a life of hate and despair
Father I still love you
And that will always stay true
But father will you love me
Because your child still needs you.
poem by Daniel Sweetnam
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Love Letters
She held a pack of love letters tied with ribbons and bows.
these were the love letters that she would never show.
Every one of them was dated first to last
These were the letters that held a life past.
Times may pass and things may change
But memories stay the same.
The writing of love letters had slowly disappeared
But she held on to them from year to year.
She sat with the letters in her lap.
As the tears rolled down her eyes
He had said he would be with her
Till the day he died
And fifty years later
He met his maker
And was carried to the cemetery
by the undertaker.
The letters had been written
with tenderness and love
Proclaiming every thing
Even the stars above.
He said life was meaningless if with her
His life he could not share.
And losing her was something
he could not bear.
Now that he was gone and she
Was left all alone.
The house didn’t seem
like much of a home.
She knew her children would not understand
Why she held the love letters in her hand.
These were the memories that kept her alive
And on that she couldn’t deny.
But her mind and body was fading fast
And she knew she could not last.
So to her children she bequeathed
The letters that she cherished all her life
For that was her husband, and she was his wife.
These are the love letters that your father
Wrote to me when we were young and carefree.
He told me of all that life had to offer.
And of all the love he had for me
And that he wanted to raise a family.
When you read his letters you will know
Why I loved this man so.
And now it’s time for me to go.
Because your father awaits me on the other side
And we’ll be together for all of time
poem by Louis Rams
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Myriad Thoughts
I sit here in myriad thoughts
dancing around my head
too fed up to put them to bed.
Thoughts of the past,
thoughts of the future too,
thoughts of things this and that
and thoughts of what to do.
Memories invade at times
of pastures long gone by
as the myriad thoughts
fill my mind with anger and with love
and times; I wish I could have lingered with
when my years were young.
Things pass in phases,
hearts entwine then fall apart,
seasons readily appear,
stay awhile and then depart.
Here I sit in a lonely waste
thinking thoughts of what might have been
if the crystal ball I look into had only seen.
Now the myriad thoughts appear
to haunt me in quiet times
and carry me to distant places
the world has left behind.
Those little specks of moments
that still linger from the past
that lay waiting to capture me
before the quiet time has passed.
28 November 2009
poem by David Harris
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Father - You Are My All
Dear Lord in Heaven, I hear your voice in the sounds of the falling rain.
I feel you Lord when the warm winds touch my face
I see you when I look at the stars high in the sky.
When no one else is near me Lord, I know you are standing by.
When I’m weak Father, you give me strength and when I’m blind
Father you find a way to make me see.
You are the wind that whispers through the swishing of trees,
the quiet still that lingers in the open sea.
You are the roar of thunder before the great rains fall.
You are the spring, summer, winter and fall.
My dear Father you are everything, you are my all.
The King of kings Lord, you sit on the great throne,
the giver of love and the taker of pain.
Father I will continue to worship you again and again.
I love you Father with all my heart and soul,
without you Father I would not be whole.
I ask Father God, that you stay within my heart
and walk with me to the end of my days.
When you take me Father to cross that threshold
to everlasting life. Please lead me on that glorious
path to Calvary where I may stand and live with thee.
Thank you Father God in the name of your precious
Son “Jesus”. A men
Written: Jan.13,2008
poem by Melvina Germain
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Remember
Remember those who went before; as believers in Christ our Lord.
Remember men who gave their life, for the Gospel of Jesus Christ.
Those early soldiers of the cross, giving their lives to reach the lost.
In Christ’s power men would embark, upon a battle against the dark.
Remember the cloud of witnesses; God’s inspiration to men like us.
Those who in faith went on before, to serve our Eternal Living Lord.
They left their land and all they knew, as a witness for me and you.
On a new journey they would trod, looking for that city built by God.
Remember also the Cross of Christ; and how He died to give us life.
His Glorious Throne He set aside, then hung upon a cross and died.
He set His heart and mind to fulfill, not His own but His Father’s will.
He went to a tree from His Throne, to secure for us an eternal home.
Remember all the disciples’ start, and how God changed their heart,
At times faithless and unsure, but ended bold witnesses of The Lord.
All but one of them lost their life, for the bold witness of Jesus Christ.
God used their witness as the birth, of what today is Christ’s Church.
As we remember those of the past, let us make a mark that will last,
Let us too glorify Christ our Lord, as the others who went on before.
Then others will remember when, we too were saved as sinful men,
To continue on in this New Life, while leading others to Jesus Christ.
(Copyright ©05/2006)
My Brother Bill
This is the sad true story about my brother Bill
who was four years older than me.
He was born and then tossed aside by his mother
who left him to his father’s parents to raise,
then promptly disappeared out of his life forever.
My grandparents brought him up
hoping his father would take care of him
when he returned from the war.
His father also my dad returned from the war
married with another son and didn’t want to know.
They gave him a nickname in private
so no one else would know.
In private, they always called him Dopey.
My sister and I were told
our grandparents had adopted him
and he was nothing to do with us.
When my dad’s parents died in 1958 and 59
plans were made to come back to England
where my mother’s parents were still alive
and leave Bill far behind.
Then as his mother had done eighteen years before
his father abandoned him as well.
For a while, he had to live on the streets
taking handout from where ever he could.
He was arrested for vagrancy and sent to jail.
Getting out he got himself a job and began to build a life.
He got married and started a family,
until one night he came home
and found his wife in bed with another man,
and a divorce followed and he was alone again.
Then after 25 years, his job vanished
and he had to find another.
One day in 2000, he got a telephone call
and did not know whether to believe it or not.
It was a call he never thought he would ever get,
a call from his younger brother - me.
As we talked on the phone, some truths came to pass
his brother and his sister did not know about him.
They were told he had been adopted
and were nothing to do with them.
However, I had found the truth,
which incensed my mother enough to disown me.
We met one another for the first time
after forty-two years in 2001 and again in 2002.
In 2003, this sad story ends,
in the March of that year
Bill succumbed to a heart attack.
His final words were a testament to his life.
No one loved me enough to care.
The sad truth is someone did
and that someone was me.
We never had enough time together,
circumstances kept us apart,
but he was my brother
and will remain in my heart.
2 November 2009
Authors Note:
The facts are as Bill told them to me. A sad refrain to a wonderful guy who was tainted by my parents as being bad and no good. If the truth were known he was probably better than the both of them. He was a guy who would give you the shirt of his back if you needed it. My brother Bill, may he now rest in peace.
DVH - 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Father (sunday Prayer)
Father once again I come to you to ask yet for more blessings. Oh Lord is there no end to what I ask for. Each day new problems, new heartaches, more devistation, molestations, murders, drug use is increasing instead of decreasing.
Father God people are forgetting their purpose in life, they are lost. Father many years ago, your son asked you to forgive them for they know not what they do. Father when will they know what they're doing.
I have a difficult time Father looking at the news and reading of unnecessary killings, of a body found in close proximity, a body missing the head and very badly beaten. Father God what kind of a person does this. Satan is so busy and still finding a following. I'm
concerned at the minds that he is still able to poison.
Today Father I pray that you take total charge and stop him in his tracks, that you cause these people to take a step back and think before they act. That you cause these people who may be suffering from mental disorders, to seek help and allow the medical Doctor's to do what they are best trained for.
Father we need people that can show compassion, love and care to others and not to think of ways in which to harm them.
You my Father are so much more powerful than this evil being, please knock him out of the way and teach him a lesson.
I know you are listening Father and I know that you will take care of this evil when the time is right and only you Father know when that time is right. I will never question why you do things the way you do. I will hope that I will see positive changes in my time.
Father let me see people embracing and caring for each other instead of beating and killing each other.
You are the most high, the most intelligent, the king of all kings and I will trust in you and follow you all the days of my life. Father God I truly have faith and will continue to follow you and love you. I question you not. Father I ask this in the name of yoru precious son 'Jesus'
Written: Feb 24,2008.
poem by Melvina Germain
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Happened to the Day?
'My child, what is that sound I hear
That rush of many feet,
I hear the people gathering
Tumultuous in the street,
I hear the people shouting
But I can't hear what they say,
The sun begins to set, my child,
What happened to the day? '
'I well remember waking, it
Was such a glorious dawn,
The clouds splashed red and tumbling
From Dante's palette born;
The clouds so red, it hurt my eyes
I had to look away,
Why look you so forlorn, my child,
What happened to the day? '
My memory has failed once more,
Again, it's taken wing,
You must remind these weary bones,
I don't recall a thing.
The clouds reflected through the house
Some sense of red dismay,
I ask you once again, my child,
What happened to the day? '
'My wife, my love of fifty years
Came out and smiled at me,
I sat her in her favourite chair
And then I let her be.
She doesn't always know me now,
Her mind has gone away,
Who are these men in uniform...
What happened to the day? '
'You keep reflecting on the blade
That's lying on my lap,
I must have carved the luncheon roast -
I can't remember that!
There's blood all over everywhere
But how, I couldn't say,
My child, my mind's beyond repair,
What happened to the day?
'I only acted out of love,
Whatever else is true,
If I could just remember
What it was I had to do?
These men are treating me so rough,
They're taking me away,
Your eyes are hard and cold, my child,
What happened to the day? '
17 October 2008
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Old Jimmy
With the aid of walking stick he shuffles down the side street and time has left him looking stiff and gray
And truly it can be said of old Jimmy that he is one who has known a better day
Ageless father time takes care of everybody there was a time when he could run quite fast
But now he only can walk at a slow pace and all of his better days are in the past.
He was a football hero in his heyday the best on ground in nineteen forty one
The day that his club played in the Grand Final without him the Premiership could not be won
Close to his prime and in his early twenties on looking back that seems so long ago
It's true that time leaves it's mark on everybody the man who once ran fast now walking slow.
The hard games of football he played in now on him telling he has arthritis in his painful right knee
An injury that forced him into retirement when he was past his prime at thirty three
Back in the forties and fifties he was a football hero but football heroes like the seasons come and go
And that he once was a Grand Final hero is something few young people wish to know.
Old Jimmy slowly shuffles down the side walk a mere shell of the man he used to be
In forty one he starred in the Grand Final when he was near his prime at twenty three
And father time has left his mark on Jimmy and time 'tis said for anyone doesn't wait
And the grim reaper will take the king and pauper and the grim reaper will take the football great.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Do not DELETE this or ABORT
an original from Don Allan Dinio
Every time a child is conceived,
a new life just blooms. It's God's gift!
Every time a baby is born,
another cycle of life just began. Angelic!
The very first time the baby cries,
a miracle just happened. Majestic!
The mystery in this child's life just started.
That is just wonderful!
I know you say that it is your choice but
don't forget it's the baby's ~ right to live!
Please do not DELETE this off your mind.
You got to think hard to do or not to do it.
The pressure is on you. Your life.
It is your pride versus the baby's right.
You got to ponder how in the world can you
afford to raise this child? Will you
sacrifice your future and the rest of your
life for the terrible quick mistake you made?
What kind of life would this child have?
The child is there...let him live!
The child could be a genius, a scientist,
the next president or an astrounaut.
That is just wishful thinking!
But does that really matter?
Remember, this child is your flesh and blood.
It is part of you!
Who knows this child might even save your life and many more.
Please do not ABORT!
Fifteen years from now the child will be a teenager.
Later on will be a young adult and shape his own life.
This child will be part of your joys and happiness,
fears and tears, more worries and some and more.
What child would he be? - so you may ask.
You begin to worry and it can get scary.
Life's influences on this child are so varied and many.
The friends and acquaintances the child may befriend
have tremendous effect of what he will become.
His toys, his hobbies, and his peers,
you, and the family and life as a whole
will be part of this child's personality.
This child will be fine, don't worry!
Let this one live.
Please do not DELETE this off your mind.
Thirty years or so from now this child will be a fully grown person.
This child will have a personality of his own.
This child might or could have accomplished something
really great that you can be proud of.
This child might or could done something terrible too
and you would have said and say to yourself...
'If only I knew! '
But don't take it as your fault. He is what he will become!
No one knows the future.
You should be proud you gave this child...
a choice to live instead ~
You did not ABORT!
Twenty some years ago, there was this young lady
who got pregnant and was left on her own
by someone she thought loves her and
will marry her and will live happily ever after. Huh?
DELETE that!
She thought long and hard what to do
with her pregnancy...the baby!
She was worried to death of her future,
her pride, the baby's future...just like you.
It was a tough decision, a life and death choice
to make and the baby's right to live.
This lady made the right choice -
she gave birth to her baby...a lovely beautiful baby
and turned out to be a fine lady,
a good daughter ~ You!
Please return the favor, do not ABORT!
poem by Don Allan Dinio
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In The Way Back Then
Seven years ago,
I went back to Canada
after forty-two years.
I walked down a road
to show my wife where I used to live.
The road was built on rolling hills
and as I came over one,
I knew instantly where I was.
Things had changed
in those forty-two years,
some would say
it was unrecognisable
from what I used to know,
but as soon as I started down the hill
things came back like yesterday.
It was as if I had never been away.
Memories of my childhood
instantly sprang to mind.
I found myself seeing things
not as the now,
but there were changes
from the way back then.
The memory flashes
brought a smile to my face
as I could visualise
all the friends I knew then,
the funny incidents that over my life
in the way back then.
All too soon, time
has a way of taking things back
and my memory reclined them
to the back door of my mind.
30 April 2008
poem by David Harris
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Regrets Held
Ripping tearing pulling shedding demolished
all what’s left of my internals
I stand above looking down on my body
too much for me handle
it wasn’t the pain that got to me it was the unrecognizable fear
the fear of loss
a loss of love a loss of forgiveness
so much to be given but not to me
that road will never again be walked
not to be remember the same
death lies below
unstilted in a breathless body
once to beheld by a boy
a boy who tore it to nothing
given the world and yet uncovered nothing
stupid as he was to a girl who excepted his warming hands
the warmth in her heart has hardened with her death weight
left alone in a box to forever to be remember as a once living thing
to the people who pass her
in search of answers of their own
she lies silent as listens to the wanderers deepest thoughts
the one regret she holds is the regrets she held
she hears their regrets of life and she screams to them
let your fears and worries be free for once you do you will be free
life isn’t worth living until you can no longer live it
poem by Faith Toney
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Heart of Gold (-for my mother)
I was not the person I appeared to be-
In your eyes, I was different.
Although you never told me-
In your spoken words, I was like all of the others-
So many times you had hurt me deeply,
Through your spoken words and through your eyes,
I could never do right-
The slap of your hand across my face
When I was none but a child of six, even before the words came out-
Told me I was a bad girl- I wept and you just walked past me.
Roses grew in my father’s garden, plentifully and beautifully, in the summertime,
Our home was a palace- my father was the king and you were the queen.
When flowers blossomed in the springtime and
Leaves changed colors in the autumn- snow would fall in the wintertime-
No matter the season, you were the one with the friendly smile and the life of the party-
We were the perfect family though I could almost say- though secretly- I hated you.
I was only fourteen years old when I broke down and they put me away-
I used to think that if you did love me, I never would have known.
The bird that could not fly and the child that did not grow up-
The young woman, who heard voices nobody else heard, saw sights no one else saw-
Everybody was a threat except for those who lived inside the world I had fabricated.
I was not the person I appeared to be- the act you forced me to put on-
To be like everybody else, I could never be.
I wept myself the night father told me how you cried every night I was locked inside
The world of my delusions and locked inside that place where
People like me were put away- and a month before you passed away,
I remember reading the words inscribed across the yellow lined paper-
That you had always loved me and I was the most important person in your life.
Through those written words, I could see the pain written across your face and
For the first time, the love you felt for me shone through your soulful brown eyes-
It was the ticking of the wall clock that made me understand, was
Keeping time and telling me that in just a short time you would be gone, and
To be departed from this world forever.
I am alone now and your ashes have been scattered at sea,
As had been your final wish and desire-
A woman who had lived a life of suffering and
Who was not there for me because she could not be, only because
She had been locked inside a world of her own despair,
A survivor of a life filled with tragedy and pain, but
Having grown, I can understand and hear the beating of a golden heart, and
Tears cried out of love for a child who had lost her sanity at an age so young-
I would remember more than
Flowers blossoming, leaves changing colors and snow falling,
Year after year, and the agony of growing up in a family I believed at the time
Did not care or understand-, but I would remember those precious words inscribed
Across yellow lined paper- then I would pick a flower and tuck it behind my ear,
Continue my journey through this life and always keep in mind as I listen,
In my fondest memory- the ocean’s waves lapping against the shore where
Your ashes were scattered twenty years past and
The beating of your golden heart…
Claudia Krizay
poem by Claudia Krizay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Treat Each Living Second As Your Last
When I was five how I wanted to be ten,
I just longed to be a young man,
My mind would wander now and then,
I wanted to be in the grown ups clan.
When I reached ten I thought of being twenty,
By then I'd be driving my car,
Time for the future, well I still had plenty,
Getting older was a distance to far.
Now I've hit twenty I've nothing to fear,
Time fades past me so slow,
I'm still a young man so I've nothing to fear
I've still got a long time to go.
Thirty years old and it's still not too bad,
I've a wife and children I love,
My health is good I love being a dad,
My life is truly a gift from above,
The big four zero has finally come,
I now watch, as my parents grow old,
The thought of that is making me feel numb,
As I know it cannot be controlled.
I'm now in my fifties my children have flown,
This life can be really strange,
Back when I was five I wish I had known,
Growing older you cannot exchange.
Be careful what you wish for it may come true,
Cherish life for it's far too short,
Enjoy what you have age you cannot subdue,
When you're young these facts you distort.
I'm now eighty years old how I wish I were five,
Hindsight's such a wonderful thing,
All those I loved dearly would still be alive,
I'd be thinking of what the future might bring.
You must live for today forget tomorrow,
Just be thankful for being alive,
Though there will be joy as well as sorrow,
It's how we cope that makes us all thrive.
Life is precious don't ever wish it away,
When it's gone it becomes part of the past,
Enjoy your years every wondrous day,
‘' Treat Each living Second As Your Last ‘'
Lost and Found
In a southern city lived a wealthy family;
In a southern city was the happy home
Of a father and mother and a little daughter.
In peace and contentment they lived alone.
But one summer evening there happened a misfortune,
Which caused the parents to weep and mourn,
For this little daughter, a loving little treasure,
Was a poor little wanderer far, far from home.
It happened thus, -- the mother went out calling
On a widow friend, who lived all alone;
She left her little daughter in the care of her father,
And through his neglect she wandered from home.
The father rocked his child, till her eyes closed in slumber;
Thought he to himself, I'll go over across the way,
And see a neighbor friend; he'll be there this evening,
And I must see him before he goes away.
He left his little one, he supposed, sweetly sleeping
In her little cradle, in the house alone,
And in his great hurry he left the gate ajar;
This thoughtlessness caused destruction to his home.
Soon after he was gone she awoke from her slumber,
Poor child, she then found herself all alone,
For no one was there, no one heard her weeping
As she wandered away far, far from home.
She wandered along on the busy thoroughbare,
No one seemed to notice this little one alone;
She wandered down Broadway till the little feet were tired,
This poor little wanderer far away from home.
At last, getting weary, she sat down on the pavement,
And soon fell asleep, so tired had she grown;
In her troubled sleep she would softly murmur, papa;
This poor little lost one so far away from home.
A policeman came along and saw her sweetly sleeping,
On the pavement at midnight alone.
He gently picked her up and took her to the station,
This poor little wanderer far away from home.
He advertised, but could not find her parents;
At last he took her to the orphan home,
Where she lived till a farmer in the country
Took her to live with him, this wanderer alone.
The father died o'er the loss of his daughter,
The mother sought for her three years alone;
At last she found her with kind people in the country,
Her poor little wanderer far away from home.
Kind people can imagine the joy of the mother,
When she found her little loving one.
"Oh God," exclaimed the mother, "I have found my little Alice,
My poor little wanderer far away from home.
poem by Julia A Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My life will never be normal
i live day by day,
wondering if i will ever be normal,
i realize that it is not possible,
every bit of part of me that was taken,
will never be given back,
it like i died everytime i was abused,
my world turned upside down,
i became use to living my life the same,
numb, confused and nobody to turn to,
nights were lonely,
and full of nightmares,
the only way i can excape was to fly,
fly away and never return,
now that i'm older,
just hot wiring a car in my dreams,
just so i can excape the pain and torture,
is a dream come true,
when the nights are suppose to be seen as good,
mine were awasys dark,
i regret even falling asleep,
but it what the body needs,
there are times i lay in bed,
just wondering how my life got this way,
tears run down my face,
anger rushes to the surface,
some selfish punk had their fun,
and left nothing but pain,
it wasn't even fun,
it what they call,
money will keep you quiet,
let me do what i want,
some selfish prick,
who deserve what they get in life,
i'm done blaming myself for what happened in the past,
what happened, happened,
it my life that i have to live now,
it just sucks when guys judge me,
for what happened in my past,
it just don't seem fair,
but it time to stop being the victim,
and start being the survivor!
poem by Mona Martinez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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William Upson
Air -- "The Major's Only Son"
Come all good people, far and near,
Oh, come and see what you can hear,
It's of a young man, true and brave,
Who is now sleeping in his grave.
Now, William Upson was his name --
If it's not that it's all the same --
He did enlist in the cruel strife,
And it caused him to lose his life.
He was Jesse Upson's eldest son,
His father loved his noble son;
This son was nineteen years of age,
In the rebellion he engaged.
His father said that he might go,
But his dear mother she said no.
"Stay at home, dear Billy," she said,
But oh, she could not turn his head.
For go he would, and go he did --
He would not do as his mother bid,
For he went away down South, there
Where he could not have his mother's care.
He went to Nashville, Tennessee,
There his kind friends he could not see;
He died among strangers, far away,
They knew not where his body lay.
He was taken sick and lived four weeks,
And oh, how his parents weep,
But now they must in sorrow mourn,
Billy has gone to his heaven home.
If his mother could have seen her son,
For she loved him, her darling one,
If she could heard his dying prayer,
It would ease her heart till she met him there.
It would relieved his mother's heart,
To have seen her son from this world depart,
And hear his noble words of love,
As he left this world for that above.
It will relieve his mother's heart,
That her son is laid in our grave yard;
Now she knows that his grave is near,
She will not shed so many tears.
She knows not that it was her son,
His coffin could not be opened --
It might be some one in his place,
For she could not see his noble face.
He enrolled in eighteen sixty-three,
The next day after Christmas eve;
He died in eighteen sixty-four,
Twenty-third of March, as I was told.
poem by Julia A Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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