Mother’s Poem
My Daddy taught me soccer,
How to kick a ball.
Mama took my picture
And hung it on the wall.
Daddy gave me truth,
And I'm glad he did,
But mama took my hand
And helped me to be a kid.
She's my mother, She's my friend,
Defender of my cause.
When I was little,
She was my Santa Claus.
Everything she taught me
Taught me to be a man.
Now that I am grown up,
I am her biggest fan.
My teenager years were tough,
I had nowhere to turn.
Like the Energizer Bunny,
I had energy to burn.
But, while those years were tough,
I somehow made it through,
But it never would have happened Mom,
If there wasn't you
Cause you’re my mother, you’re my friend,
Defender of my cause.
When I was little,
You were my Santa Claus.
Everything you taught me
Taught me to be a man.
Now that I am grown up,
I am your biggest fan.
With high school behind me,
I set off to find my dreams,
The college life with glowing,
But it is never like it seems.
Like Dorothy said before me,
And, now I know it's true,
There is no place like home, Mom,
And I learned that from you,
Cause you’re my mother, you’re my friend,
Defender of my cause.
When I was little,
You were my Santa Claus.
Everything you taught me
Taught me to be a man.
Now that I am grown up,
I am your biggest fan.
Now, on my wedding day,
as we dance this dance.
I have one thing to say,
While I have the chance.
Thank you, Mom for everything
You did, and did not do.
I love my wife. I will love my kids.
And forever, I'll Love You.
Tim Stewart is the author of Positive Force (http://timstewart.npauthors.com/) –a book to help keep kids out of gangs. He will be Yvonne Perry’s guest on Writers in the Sky Podcast on May 16.
Hearts Aflutter
Young love tends to make me smile;
Hearts aflutter
Giddy laughter
Sweet surprises of amazement,
First time blushing flushing cheeks.
Optimism running rampant
Common sense a distant glen where
Foggish mist obscures all vision
Save the light in lover’s eyes.
And who’s to say where love may lead?
Who is seer of mystic power
Adept with craft of bold prediction?
Can one know what is unknown?
Time reveals the hidden treasures
Buried deep beneath the stone.
Lovers with their hearts aflutter
Need not face the search alone.
Dennis Martin has written 13 plays –several of which have been presented as staged readings in the Baltimore Playwright’s Festival. Dennis has written over 800 poems and self-published a book of poems titled “Love and Passions” available at www.iuniverse.com and major online bookstores as well as six other poetry collections and 3 novels available at www.lulu.com/dsmartin. Read more about Dennis at http://www.iwritesome.com or blog with him at http://iwritesome.blogspot.com.
Rain
Rain Is Pouring Consciousness
A Flowing Awareness
From The Stream
Of Infinity
Wind Dances In Circles
Bending Matter
And Reshaping Thought
In A Circle
Of Space
A Storm Releases
Captured Energy
Clearing A Channel
Of Connection
For
Disconnected Emotions
And
Impulses
Clouds Carry Remembering
In Colors Of White
Sprinkled With Gray
To Announce Freedom
In Diversity
Peace In Unity
Love In Forgiveness
And Self
In Multiplicity
Hal Manogue, From the 2009 Collection Of Short Sleeves A Book For Friends. www.shortsleeves.net and http://halmanogue.blogspot.com/
War And Peace
Sky dark and furious, clouds
dueling with swords of lightening ,
rain rushes down anxious to escape.
Fury spent the sky quiets,
gently cries as it falls.
Flowers and trees look
up with bruised heads,
forgiving, they soak the
rain into their hearts.
Dark clouds part as a rainbow appears
in the sky, beautiful to the eye.
The clouds have
made their peace.
No sound except the soft
pitter, patter of the rain.
Gail Livesay is 57 years old and lives in Berea, Kentucky with her husband, Wayne. They have two children, Michael and Lisa and have been blessed with two granddaughters, Marina and Hannah. Gail writes poetry, fiction, plays and is currently revising her autobiography about growing up with bipolar disorder which was neither recognized and/or diagnosed.
Always the Road
By Jan Bossing © Joelton, TN 2008
Those eyes in my mirror, not looking too good, my old sweetheart died.
His boy called to tell me; I closed those eyes and cried.
I walked to the closet, I opened the door.
I wrapped myself up, in a shirt that he wore.
I always meant to call him, to get together one more time.
Find out what happened in his life; tell him about mine.
But I waited too long, and I waited too late.
Now there’s no number to call; nothing left to say.
So I cry for our beauty; I cry for our youth.
I cry for our searches, for meaning and truth.
And the longer I live, the more I know.
It was never the arrival; it was always just the road.
The coming, the going; the work, the play.
The living every night; the loving every day.
The taking, the giving; the loving, the living.
Oh, babe, don’t fade.
Please stay, one more day.
The longer I live, the more I know.
It was never the arrival; it was always just the road.
Always just the road, just the road.
*****************
The photos on this post are from Yvonne's garden. The photo was taken by her neighbor, Shara Lunn. See more of her photos at http://www.flickr.com/photos/cakesbyshara.
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