Are You Going To See Your Mom?
'Mom,
I come back again.'
I shouted
in my mind.
It is said that
Plane flies fast.
But my heart
flew to my Mom
before the plane landed.
I knew
that my sisters come here
in turn everyday.
Now this day
I would be on duty.
When I stepped into the nursing home,
I saw Mom in a wheel chair,
with more white hair,
and more wrinkles on face.
I gave her a hug,
'Hi, Mom.' I shouted near her ear.
Mom stared me with dull sight,
then held my hands,
'Sister' she called me,
She couldn't recognize me!
I couldn't hold my tears any more.
Mom didn't cry,
just wiped out my tears
using her hand.
When lunch was ready,
I fed her one spoon after another;
Mom nodded her head while she's chewing;
A little smile showed up at the edge of her lips.
I hated that It's time to leave,
I stood up, and said
'Good bye, Mom.'
She looked at me,
held my hands, and asked me:
'Are you going to see your Mom? '
* Mom had dementia two years before and moved into a nursing home.
Also, she has hearing problem.
Are You Going To See Your Mom? *
poem by Jade Huang
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Lost In Wal-Mart
So... I was in one of those Wal-mart Super Stores
Just the other day
When in the middle of the hallway
I felt someone grab my fingers tight
I looked and there she was... a little child holding
With all her might
I saw her eyes big and brown
Somehow she pulled me to the ground
Now..what was a man...big as me suppose to do
So... I said... child... Can I help you..?
As she looked at me with big brown eyes
Her beauty and sadness... almost caused a great flood
And with her voice ready to cry
She ask... If'n...I'd seen her mommy?
Now has anybody ever had their heart fallout of their soul...?
Mine did... And I couldn't help but notice
Her knees.. Shaking... Like she was at the North Pole.
Now you... and me... and everyone knows...
Children aren't to talk to strangers...
Because we've all heard... how great... and terrible those..dangers!
But she still had hold...of my fingers
Well... at that same time I felt.. heard a voice in my head
Don't move.... this is where I should.. need.. to stand
I did... But I still raised up my left hand
Because.. I didn't... know what to do?
I felt like that child... back in first grade school!
So... I spoke with my voice really loud.
I said...this child's mommy is lost... (you see)
I have always been able to see when love needed my help!
But this time... I had never known how helpless..I felt!
I said...please..someone.. call the M.O.D.
Short for Manager on Duty.
Help me... Find the mommy of this little cutie
Well in a few moments through that crowd of people
This women... M.O.D. appeared
She knelt down and said..Oh.. Oh...you're such a little dear...
Held out her hands..said sweetie come-mere
Yet.. I knew what this child was thinking... because
She now clung to me
Her arm went tight.. around my knee
And in her fist part of my jean's
I felt heard again that gentlest of a voice
I know you can you feel... her fear.....
So I want you... to just stand here....
Well I let my left hand rest gently...on her little head
I felt the trembling...and some how it cut my soul....
(because I felt those greatest of dreads)
So there we were twenty... thirty minutes... maybe a little more..
Then that voice ok look to the left
And from a hundred yards I saw her and the plant nursey room door
and heard that one's the mom....!
And even from that distance
I knew my thoughts were right
She looked like she'd seen a ghost
Face Pale.... I reconized her... pure.. It was Snow..White..
So I raised that child up to my shoulder
That had clung so tight to my knee...Shouted... Hey Lady... Over here..
I can't describe her relief... nor her tears...
But..I'll never forget them...or her...for the rest of my years...
Because as she came close... I cleary heard...Thank..You..God...!
As she fell with that child in her arms...knee's hitting the floor..
She begged for mercy... forgivness...
From the child, from God... I was'nt quite shore?
Well Ok.. I finally decided it was safe for me.. I turned to leave
And there again.. she was wrapped around my knee
This time love forced me to the ground
All the while that mommy's great tears.. rained down
I glanced briefly at the face.. of that girl women that still cried
And then I said Child... Is this your mom?
With a smile and nod... said my name is Dawnn..
She showed me a bruise on her elbow
That had been caused by her cat... his name was Heck
Then she smiled and embaced my neck
Suddenly I was there outside my heart
My own tears began to start............... well
When I was able I a-rose.. that mom started to explain
Mention husband...Iraq... two years... and a plane
In her haste had thought Grandma had
Her in her car
That she had to go... airport...late and so far
Tell her don't speed the plane will be late
I did what I was told... and ask if'n.. I... could hold Dawnn
Because she needed to call her own mom...
On the phone... Yes.. Yes... Mom I have her.. she's safe...
What..what.. The plane is late... How do you know that?
She then said mom... I need to call you back
Putting her cell phone down
She stared at me with eyes big and round
Then I smiled at Dawnn.. and put my head down
She said it's been so hard.. these last two years
And again she said, Thank You God....through some more tears
She stepped closer... and almost whisperd.. so I could barley hear
She said...I ask God to have someone he trusted
Guard my daughter until I got there
She cried and still stared
I put love and little Dawnn back on the ground
I tired to mumble something... but couldn't hardly make a sound
So I said good by to Dawn and take good care of Heck
Then that women child said thank you Clyde
And... with her free arm pert near broke my neck
She stilled cried a little... guess.. I did the same
Surprised that she knew my name
She said God Loves you u-know
And I have to go
As she backed up... she added
I'll name my first son....
After the man that can see far....
May God bless you where-ere you go... or are....
So I wrote this poem about a little girl and her mom Lost in Wal-mart.
I admit I was confussed as to why this little girl came to me and ask me to help her find her mom.But what was I to do, I could only stand there
and try to do what I felt was the correct thing.
It was easy to see that young women that came running into that
store was lost and scared. I don't claim anything but it was strange to have this little girl refuse help from so many of the other's that were there. Yet I obeyed the thoughts that kept coming into my soul. I'm not sure if it was the right thing to do. I just did what I thought came into my mind. It was like I was thinking with and unused portion of my heart, if that was possible.. the end
poem by Clyde Bryson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Looking for Encouragement in ICU
He's gone
I never saw him go
Surprised that he fell
I thought he would get up
At first he looked like he'd be OK
He was upset that he'd slipped
Confused that the legs hadn't held
The strength that steadied
The foot and braced the legs
Held at the smoker in 1932
When three solid lefts
Couldn't take him down
Held when the Hammond trim saw kicked
Held on the wet rocks of Redwood Creek
When the salmon jumped and were on
Held splitting a second cord of wood
While after loading the first
I thought I needed a break
Now when he needed it most
They didn't hold they gave
Yet he somehow still held on
Over the ledge I could see him there
He was pulling himself up
Or at least I wanted him to
I tried to talk to him
I got his attention
He silently shook his head
The same as when we hunted
When I thought I had a clear shot
And he knew I didn't
He always challenged me
No matter what I did
To be a better shot
'We're not out here to wound
Chase down a revine then
Drag bloodshoot venison through the brush.
We're out here to put meat on the table.'
He also knew when to fish
And where the quail hid
He always encouraged me
To know what I was doing
Before I did it
'Its real important you learn
The difference between your ass
And a hole in the ground.'
Was his way
Of putting it
I knew what he meant
Shaking his head I recognized his signal
I still wanted to help even though
I couldn't have gotten to him anyway
Then he stopped trying
The strength and gruffness were gone
I was mad at him
For the tears in his eyes
For not trying
For knowing more than me
He knew there was no way up
The others calling to him
Were of no use
I knew then what he wanted
To push away from the side
To be over and done with it
He was caught tangled held back
He couldn't even let go
When he wanted to
I looked and he was there
I couldn't help
I didn't want to watch
I looked again
He was gone
I never saw him go
poem by Tom J. Mariani
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Airline To Heaven
There's an airline plane
Flies to heaven everyday
Past the pearly gates
If you want to ride this train
Have your ticket in your hand
Before it is too late
If the world looks wrong
And your money's spent and gone
And your friend has turned away
You can get away to heaven
On this aeroplane
Just bow your head and pray
Them's got ears, let them hear
Them's got eyes, let them see
Turn your eyes to the lord of the skies
Take this airline plane
It'll take you home again
To your home behind the skies
Well a lot of people guess
Some say no and some say yes
Will it take some and leave some behind?
But you will surely know
When to the airport go
To leave this world behind
Oh a lot of speakers speak
A lot of preachers preach
When you lay their salary on the line
You can hold your head and pray
It's the only earthly way
You can fly to heaven on time
Fly to heaven on time
Them's got ears, let them hear
Them's got eyes, let them see
Turn your eyes to the lord of the skies
Take that airline plane
It'll take you home again
To your home behind the skies
Your ticket you obtain
On this heavenly airline plane
You leave your sins behind
You've got to take this flight
It may be daytime, might be night
But you can't see your way if you're blind
Them's got ears, let them hear
Them's got eyes, let them see
Turn your eyes to the lord of the skies
Take that airline plane
It'll take you home again
To your home behind the skies
song performed by by Wilco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Eve
Detdicated to Eve Croft
May she Rest In Peace
It was over forty years ago
when I first met her.
I had barely left my teens.
She was older than me;
in fact, she was a friend’s mother.
Divorce had left her lonely
with three sons to bring up.
Life was not easy,
not much time to herself.
Slowly after meeting her,
a friendship between us grew.
To make her life sustainable
I took her out
from time to time.
We held hands at the pictures
and when we went anywhere.
She often worried
what people would think of me.
I didn’t really care what people thought.
Eve was a friend
and there was nothing more to be said.
For the next couple of years
our friendship never wavered.
We would hug and smile
whenever we did meet.
There was never any romance involved,
we were just very good friends.
I never forget when she had an offer
to move in with someone.
She was so worried
that I would think badly of her.
She was almost in tears
when she told me his proposition.
I put my arm around her shoulder
and reassured her it was all right.
That our friendship would never diminish
regardless what she did.
Sadly, her going away
was never meant to be.
She fell ill with cancer
and went to live with her sister
who would care for her.
It was the last time
I was ever to see her.
It was a few years later
I bumped into her eldest son.
When I asked him about his mum
he looked at me strangely
with tears holding back I his eyes.
She died I thought you knew.
I said that I didn’t.
He said he couldn’t stop
as he had a bus to catch,
and then he was gone.
With head bowed, I turned away
and started walking home.
Tears leaked from my eyes
making small lines across my cheeks.
My regret then and will always be
that I never had a chance
to say a proper goodbye.
1 January 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
After Nights
I've hated to talk about it,
but there has been so many after nights.
I've needed to work out, one more story.
Trying to end, my often very sad's.
Another one, of my, the most incredibly bad's!
My heart, was shaking as I knelt on the ground.
My hands, were pressing his wounds.
Pressing hard, prayng, deeper and deeper.
Begging God, Help, Shouting, Holding back the Grim Reaper
Like his mother, my shaking hands
With a sobbing, torn chest
Held him tightly to my breast
Gently wiped the blood from his face and lips
I watched, and felt his soul, escaped my grip.
Raining tears washed the blood from his face.
Even now, I've often wished that God.
Would've let me take his place!
I couldn't bare to see my brother die!
The shouting of my heart, screaming why? God. Why?
Please! God! Why....?
I felt my buddies tears, they were hugging our backs.
Even though, I knew he was dead.
God,
I held him close, I kissed his head.
Like a mother with hurt child.
I sat, rocking him in the mud.
Filling a rice paddy with tears, and blood.
So now after all these years.
I've tried to tell, my life story. Of so many tears.
I've had enough, to make rice paddies flood?
My tears as I've relived, nights, after nights.
How I tried. To stop. My buddies blood
So, just, how, many tears, does it take to make a rice paddy flood?
I've seen that much, and his filled it with blood.
So when you read this, try to understand.
I'm doing the best that I can.
I fight every day the things that make me so sad.
But it helps to talk about it, and the many after nights!
The days and days, the nights after nights.
I've called my life stories, just incredibly bad...........
poem by Clyde Bryson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The dreaded chair
He knew his time had arrived
his heart was beating fast
sweat trickled down his back
he felt faint and nauseous.
The night before he couldn't sleep
he lay there staring at the ceiling
the clock ticked noisily by his bed
he hoped tomorrow wouldn't come.
He wished he could find a way out
but he knew it had to be done
there was no turning back now
he just had to stay strong.
Then his name was called out
he was ushered to the large chair
his legs wobbled like jelly
strong hands stopped him from falling.
A light was shining into his face
a pair of eyes stared down at him
his throat was so dry he couldn't talk
fear gripped him like an evil vice.
He hoped this would be over quickly
get it over with he tried to say
but he was so scared it hardly came out
his heart wanted to explode out of his chest.
Then a calm voice spoke gently to him
'Don't be nervous, your in safe hands
your only going to have a tooth out.'
How he hated going to the Dentists!
poem by Kevin Halls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Survival Of Love
On a mid-winter's night
when the stars were bright
a stranger came into town.
As he looked around
it was then that he found
that all of the ground was white.
It was beautiful to see
and he wondered if she
would be looking out at the snow?
All the time he'd been gone
as he approached the front lawn,
he prayed that there she would be.
His hands were so cold.
They were wrinkled and old
but they remembered the feel of her face.
So much time had passed by.
Many tears they did cry,
not knowing what their future did hold,
In between all the years
there'd been so many tears
not knowing where he did go?
He'd been hit on the head
robbed and then left for dead.
but survived and as his head clears
He cannot recall
who he is at all.
No memories of whom he had been.
What was his name?
Was he insane?
Amnesia had created a wall.
He had a wife
who prayed for his life,
never giving up hope he'd return.
Every day she would go
and look out at the snow
as the years had brought nothing but strife.
Not knowing at all that his amnesia's wall
came suddenly crumbling down.
He remembered his past.
He traveled there fast
and he came to the town of snowfall.
As he approached in the snow
she was at the window,
looking at what she thought was a ghost.
Trembling to see
Was it really he?
She opened the door very slow.
She felt his hand.
His hand held a strand
of her hair that was white like the snow.
They couldn't let go
for they both did know
that their lives ended just as God planned.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mothers Horror
Pain is watching your mother take her last breath
Pain is seeing the doctor announce her death
They said she could hear, till the very last
Whispering I love you mom, I forgive you for the past
Trying to hold back emotion, biting my lip
Knowing any moment she'd be taking that trip
Fighting back the tears, I was totally numb
Chewing on my fingernails and biting on my thumb
The time passed so slowly, while I was in shock
I'd sit weeping for a while and then take a walk
Oh mother don't leave me, I just found your love
I knew it had to end, she was needed above
Her suffering finally ended, late one night
Angels took her home, when she gave up the fight
Now all I'm left with, are many memories of pain
The nursing home killed her, cause her to be slain
I will fight till the end, for her you see
I don't have dementia, they'll have to deal with me
You love them and you think you give them the very best
It's a home of horrors, by now you've guessed
They made plenty of money, for her to stay
Closing them down is what I pray!
poem by Donna Nimmo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sorrow
I walked into the park and saw a young man sitting by a flower bed
I asked him why he looked so miserable and this is what he said,
“Sixty years ago I fell in love with a beautiful girl and now she has to die
I knew her time would come one day, but the years have just flashed by.
I knew that it was wrong to love her, but my heart ruled over my head.
I was there when she was born at home and I stood by her mother’s bed.
As the years passed I watched over her, and proposed when she was sixteen.
She was so young and beautiful then, and everyday we lived a dream.
She didn’t know that I was different and I just couldn’t bear to tell her so,
but she had suspicions as her hair greyed, and my age didn’t show.
And now my heart is breaking because I want to die and be with my wife,
without her my life isn’t worth living, and I no longer want this life.
For sixty years life has been wonderful for me and my only true love,
but soon I must take her up and leave her in the heavens above.
I don’t know how I’m going to take the woman I adore from my side.
I’m sorry for sharing my sorrow with you, ” and as he left he cried.
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Nursing Home Blue
Nursing Home Blues
I sent mother to a nursing home, she didn´t want
to go but I ignored her wishes, we often do that
when concerning old people, we say it is for their
own good, but the truth is I didn´t know what
else to do. Mother became quite rebellious they
called me from the home she was throwing food
about and demanded, when she evacuated, that
an assistant come and dry her bum.
Wanted to go home, there was no home she had
lived in a rented flat and someone else lived there.
When she knew she she felt betrayed, her silence
was damning. She stopped eating, gaunt, a skeleton
before death came as a relief. Now that I´m old too
families telling me I should not ride on my scooter
in case I might fall off…like should I care.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
You Can Never Go Home Again
Its been forty years or so
But the dreams still remain
And, in them, I enter happiness.
I race home from school
And burst through the gates.
Where
My father
As always
Awaits with an ever ready smile.
The sun shines behind me
And his crisp ironed shirt does not prevent him
From lifting me up in his arms.
My father does not fear wrinkles..
I speak
In my sleep, a foreign tongue
It bursts from my lips
Like an overripe mango.
And,
I awake, remembering...
I was there again.
Now
After forty years
I walk over the threshold
To a home I remember from my dreams.
I must contain my emotions
Seal them in for I will burst.
I have traveled over land and sea
To stand here.
Perhaps
I was hoping as my feet touched this familiar earth,
I would go back in time...
I half expected my father's ghost to greet me.
Cigarette casually held between pearly white teeth.
His arms ready to embrace the son
He left so suddenly.
The rug was swept up from under me and
My lunges had the breath sucked out from them.
I was hoping to regain some lost oxygen.
My composure slips,
Cracks
Like these old walls that seem to have held the
Same memories I remember.
It's as if they knew I'd come back.
This was all they had left to give
And they waited for me.
They too had been dreaming of better days.
Long ago we lost a lot
The day my father died so suddenly.
I held the dirt from the courtyard in my hands and
Inhaled for his sent,
Caressed the iron gates as if I were touching
My long gone fathers face
And let the tears finally come.
poem by Rabia Minhas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Unexpected Father.
Your mother
had brought Helen
home for tea after school
and she had held on
to the handle
of the pram
your mother pushed
and you walked
along side
thinking of whether
to show her
your toy soldiers
and cowboys and Indians
and the guns
that fired
loud banging caps
or whether to just sit
and watch the TV
and eat your tea
and show her nothing
but once you got home
and your mother went off
to the kitchen to prepare
the tea stuff and such
Helen looked at you
and shyly smiled
and said
Can I see your sister's dolls
and pram
and does she have
a doll's house
I could play with?
you dismissed the idea
of showing her
the guns that fired caps
or your toy soldier collection
and took her
into the room
where you kept the toys
and pointed to
your sister's dolls
and the pram
and said
Take care
my sister doesn't like
people messing
with her stuff
and Helen nodded
and picked up a doll
and held it to her chest
and rocked it
to and fro
and walked up and down
murmuring there there sounds
that echoed softly
around the room
Where's your sister?
Helen asked
will she mind me
rocking the baby to sleep?
Guess not
you replied
and stood watching her
as she walked
and talked to the doll
in an undertone
and you stood there
hands in pockets
like a father
of an unexpected child
wondering what to say
or do and taking in
her thick lens glasses
and her eyes
seemingly enlarged
focusing on the doll
and the way her head
moved from side to side
so that her plaited hair
went from side to side
and up and down
and she said softly
and suddenly
We may have a baby like this
one day and you had better
say something more
than you are now
or I'll think
you didn't want it
and off she walked
up and down the room
and hoped your mother
would come soon
and save you from the fate
of being the father
of a doll with a dodgy eye
and a painted smile
but having a tender spot
for Helen
all the while.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Present From A Thief
Papa always picked the smallest doll,
Movable legs and arms loosely
Held together by rubber bands.
Sneaking through the door
In bare feet-not waking all
And placing it in a box beside
Little candies and fruits
The firewood snapped and popped
Lighting up the house like firework
On the Fourth of July…they slept.
Was that terrible act
Perfectly covered up?
For years, I called the action into question:
Whose eyes the wool was pulled over?
How could he in his drunken stupor
Slip in and out unnoticed to
Steal her innocence?
I remember mama sitting
At the kitchen table, with
A baby in arm,
Another on her knee, and
Starring down
At the butcher knife.
Eyes dripping blood as
She looked at her little girls.
Then regret and silence
Slit her heart.
Years later…
I visited her in the nursing home.
She was seated in an old rocking chair with
Head bowed; her silver hair wilted on shoulders;
Each day's images and thoughts were
Trying to dig a passageway out of her mind…
I asked, ' why you couldn't -or
wouldn’t catch that thief'
“ I had to wait for the grim reaper to catch him”
Almedia S. Knight or ASK,
04/24/07
poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Touch Of Your Hand
On the day that you were born
I touched your hand so chubby and warm.
I touched your hand when you were one
and helped you walk my beautiful son.
I held your hand when you were two.
We ran, your favorite thing to do.
I held your hand when you were three
as you climbed on my lap and smiled at me.
I touched your hand when you were four
as the ocean touched our toes at the shore.
I touched your hand when you were five
walking you to school but when we'd arrive
I felt the tug of your hand from mine
and I knew that we had crossed a line.
I looked at you and released your hand
and said'it's okay I understand.'
As I walked back home I cried some tears
thinking of all our hand holding years.
Holding your hand became sporadic now,
when you were feverish or I felt your brow.
I held your hand a few times as a teen
but always alone so it wouldn't be seen.
I held your hand after you said, 'I do.'
We danced together just me and you.
After some years went by my son
you held the hand of your little one.
And so the times of your life turn around
and now that my hand is old I've found
you take my hand and help me walk
and as you do we intimately talk.
And it takes me back to that bright early morn
when I held your hand so chubby and warm.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sidewalk Story
The afternoon had a flu-like quality, gray and threatening to burst into tears at any moment, but I held it together like a grown-up, taught my classes, smiled at the children. I was in love with one little boy who couldn't write, not one idea in his head despite my encouraging crouch near his desk so long my knees were stiff and rising I almost passed out.
The sky drained of color but plenty of gray light. The teachers nodded sympathetically and said That flu is horrible go home, get some rest.
On the sidewalk thronged the children like little commuters, with their plastic slickers and empty lunch boxes, waiting for their mothers to come pick them up in big shiny minivans. I tottered into poisonous air, head aching with flu, ears ringing with the fever of five hours teaching, saying 'Good! Good! That's great, that's wonderful,' in a high sincere voice.
The children are so smart, I can't take it sometimes.
The way some of them will turn and look straight through me
Then I noticed the girl on the sidewalk, face the color of skimmed milk, ginger hair limp and straight, cut hopelessly to the chin. A small sad storybook of a second-grader, trying to evade her oppressor who in this case was wearing a puffy pink ski jacket and tormenting grin. The bigger girl walked backward blocking the small one from wherever it was she wanted to go. The little victim tried to get around her,
couldn't; tried, couldn't, dodged,
head down, resigned,
the only object now being not to let anyone see me cry. It was myself of course. I stood rooted next to my foggy car, keys in hand, smelling the wet asphalt. Oh that tragically trembling chin! How did I get to be middle-aged, delirious from teaching these children for years, coaxing them to flower into the brutally onrushing future, into the mystery of their fates where poetry may or may not help them?
Then I remembered
and stepped forward.
Took her hand,
cool and fresh as milk,
trusting, in my own fevered paw,
and tall now, sidestepped the taunting girl.
But I wanted to talk to her!
the bully persisted, grinning, still grinning--
the awful, relentless, pasted-on grin--
As if I hadn't been on that side of it too.
As if I didn't know.
poem by Alison Luterman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Joys of Motherhood
When I gingerly held my new born,
I could have at that moment sworn,
As I watched him with moist eyes,
I had no clue my life was going to turn topsy turvy
Sleepless nights, making the formula right,
I think those days I looked a sight.
But when he looked at me with trust
I would forget all my fatigue.
I couldn’t stop talking about him,
At times it irked my husband a bit.
He complained now I have no time
For him and my son was my only priority.
The years flew, he started school,
He looked up to me as his idol
But soon the place was replaced by his teachers,
Who he told me knew better.
But honestly I was not prepared
When he became a teenager.
To handle overnight a rebel,
Its just hormones, I would tell
Myself, and he would soon settle,
I think my life had become hell.
Where did I go wrong I wondered,
As to make his point, he thundered.
I would cry every night
After we had an ugly fight.
I would find myself brood
Is this called joys of motherhood?
Soon time came for him to go overseas
To pursue higher studies.
I got an email after a few weeks,
Mom, I am sorry for being such a creep.
Can you find it in your heart to forgive?
I just couldn’t believe.
Then one day he wrote
I miss your cooking and home.
My heart once again felt light
Can a mother hold anything against her child?
We were once again becoming close
Distance makes us value our loved ones, I suppose.
In the same home, one child grew bold and other meek,
Has it to do with genes, or we are all unique?
Still I wish parenthood,
Would come with a guidebook
poem by Mamta Agarwal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Madelaine Mann
'Pass me my pearl handled brush, and my comb, '
She had said, as she gazed at the glass,
The child had obeyed, though he shuffled and moaned
As he pulled at his pretty pink dress.
'Be still with you, child! Learn some patience and grace,
Wipe that scowl off your face - do you hear?
Just be a good girl, and I'll powder your face,
Tie ribbons up high in your hair.'
The boy bit his lip, and he stared at his aunt
In the mirror; she simpered and smiled,
Her lips were so thin and so twisted in sin
Though she thought she was beauty, beguiled.
The eyes were so close, and were hooded and dark,
The cheeks were both sallow and thin,
'A little more rouge - there we are! Is your aunt
The most beautiful creature you've seen? '
The boy nodded then, as he knew he must do
If he wouldn't be beaten and sore,
The lash of her cane had left scars in his brain
And he just couldn't take any more.
His mother had died when her sister denied her
A telephone call in the night,
She'd wanted to call out an ambulance then,
But her sister said: 'You'll be all right! '
She died the next morning, and Madelaine Mann
Had dug a large hole by the tree,
She buried her sister there, in the moonlight,
Leaving Andrew, who wasn't quite three.
They lived in the country, so nobody knew
What went on in that foul looking den,
And Andrew became little Andrea soon,
Because Madelaine Mann hated men.
He grew up confused as he followed her rules
But he always knew something was wrong,
He pulled all the heads off the dolls as he played
And his voice couldn't carry a song.
She'd beat him whenever his needlework strayed
Showing great ugly stitches and knots,
But his mind wandered out where the mud puddles lay,
And that patch of forget-me-nots.
Those precious blue flowers grew under the tree
Where her sister lay, cold in the ground,
She'd smile as she passed them, her own little joke
As she turned the son's gender around;
But Andrew, he sat and he picked at the flowers
And he sat there for hours at a time,
He'd sit in a trance, then he'd dance a small dance
As if Mummy was there in his mind.
She dressed him in dresses, and tied up his hair
But still made him work for his keep,
He swilled out the pigs and he managed the bees,
And he grew until he was thirteen;
She schooled him at home so that nobody knew
That the girl on the farm was a 'he',
For Madelaine saw off the strangers that came
With a sign: 'Private Property! '
She beat him whenever he stepped out of line
And he didn't dare answer her back,
He scowled and he muttered when she wasn't there,
And his thoughts were dark, merging on black.
He talked to the pigs as his moodiness grew
To the sow that he called 'Mother Sly',
And saw how voracious their appetites grew
As he poured the swill into the sty.
One morning she woke, and she called for him then,
When she couldn't get out of her bed,
'You must call an ambulance, Andrea dear,
I have something gone wrong in my head.'
He stood in the doorway, and shuffled, and smiled,
Then he grinned and he took off his dress;
A pair of old overalls hung in the hall,
And he put them on over his vest.
'Don't be silly, my girl! Don't defy me, or think
This will change anything in our lives!
You will work on the farm 'til I'm well, and I'm home...'
He just laughed, and went out to the hives.
He cut off the cord to the telephone,
And he left off from feeding the swine,
While Madelaine Mann lay remembering then
All the beatings, as fear took her mind.
'The ambulance, Andrea; Andrea please! '
She had shouted in vain all day long,
But Andrew himself was nowhere to be seen,
He was out somewhere else, all alone.
On the following morning he wheeled in the chair
That his mother had used, from the barn,
'We're taking a walk, dear, ' Andrea said,
'I'm just going to show you our farm.'
He put on a suit with a hood and long gloves
And he wheeled her then, out to the tree,
The area was full of forget-me-nots,
All in bloom, and a picture to see,
But there by the tree there were three wooden hives
And the bees were there, buzzing the flowers,
He lifted each lid, then he turned and he said:
'It's so nice here; I'll give you two hours.'
She screamed and she struggled to get off the chair
But the stroke had disabled her mind,
Her eyes bulged in fear as the first stung her ear,
Within minutes, the woman was blind.
They crawled on her arms, on her legs and her face
And they stung and they stung to a plan,
To get the intruder to leave them alone,
But she couldn't... not Madelaine Mann!
When Andrew returned with the smoker, she sat
And she groaned - he was somewhat disturbed:
'I thought you'd be finished, you nasty old witch!
Well, we'll finish this soon, mark my words.'
He trundled her groaning along the dirt path
And he tipped her right into the sty;
The last thing she heard were the grunts of the young
And the munching of old 'Mother Sly.'
27 August 2008
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Judith and You and A Morning Mist
The morning mist
that hung over
the pond (or your lake
as Judith called it)
had moved away
by the time she came
and stood next to you
wrapped up in her
Sunday best
waiting until the time
for the bus to take
you both to sing
in the church
her breath flowing out
on the air
like cigarette smoke
her eyes focused
on the skin
of the still water
I dreamt of you
last night
she said
you and I
were snuggled
together in my bed
having made love
you watched
a magpie take flight
over the water
nice
wish I could
have been there
in person
you said
more breath
left her lips
and rose upwards
maybe next time
you can
she said
turning her head
spreading her lips
into a smile
just be my luck
your mother
will invade the dream
and catch us
you said
yes
Judith said
that would
spoil the dream
some what
there was a mist
over the pond earlier
you said
it looked beautiful
she turned
and stared
over the water
I missed that
as you missed
making love to me
in my dream
she whispered
drawing closer
her hands
taking hold
of yours
what did you
dream about?
she asked
an empty bed
and cold sheets
and a space
where you should
have been
you said
she smiled
and said
I couldn't be
in both beds
at once could I?
once more
there was the rising
of her breath
you couldn't tell her
you'd seen
an image
of her death.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Fay and You and the Ruler.
Fay met you
on your way home
from school
standing by the entrance
of Meadow Row
she was in her school uniform
a satchel
over a shoulder
how was school?
she asked
boring and the day
too long
you replied
but at least
you can learn things
she said
like how
to make a candle
holder in woodwork?
finding some river
in India
I'll never see?
you said
she smiled shyly
well maybe you will
she said
how are you?
you asked
ok
she replied
got told off
by Sister Bernard
for not having a ruler
what did you do
with your ruler?
you asked
lost it
she said
ah well
there you are
you said
naughty naughty
she walked on
down Meadow Row
and you walked
beside her
actually
she said quietly
my daddy took it
she stood still
and stared at you
he beat me
with it
she said
in a whisper
you looked
into her eyes
and saw your
reflection there
two yous
staring back
why?
you asked
taking in her paleness
her fair hair tied
in a ponytail
he said l hadn't done
my jobs properly
jobs?
you asked
around the house
helping my mum
and did you? help?
yes usually
but I forgot
this time
big crime
you said
won't he give
the ruler back?
no
she said
he said he will keep it
as a lesson to me
can't you buy
a new one?
you asked
I haven't any money
she said
you can have
one of mine
you said
I have plenty at home
can I borrow one?
you can have one
she smiled weakly
her eyes lit up
and she took one
of your hands
and held it
I'll have to hide it though
she said
or he'll take
that one too
quite a guy your dad
you said
she looked away
at the bombed out houses
on the left hand side
you saw her hurt
and sadness
some things you can't hide.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!