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Nisrina Ulayya Oct 2018
He goes home everyday at midnight
Drunk but say everything’s alright
Drive below the city lights
No more holding the bolster tight
Does he know that I’m home so frightened?
Everyday everything’s growing
And as the second passes
I’m the one whose always watching
Nisrina Ulayya Oct 2018
Is that my little boy
who used to smile and spread the joy?
But now he throws away all of the toy
And forgot how things used to flow
Nowadays my time is running low
So this is how the goodbye goes
Nekhbet Hermit Oct 2018
I lay my head upon my mother’s chest
And for a moment, I’m a little girl again.

I remember what it’s like for the whole world to stop
For worries to melt away like candle wax
My jagged edges smoothed by a warm embrace
It’s a feeling I’ve rarely felt since

Maiden, Mother, Crone
I watch the wheel of fortune spin
Daughter, Mother, Grandmother
Me, Myself, I
The passing of time I there observe in all its stages
In our faces
Growing old,
To be young,
The illusion dissipates when I look into the eyes of those who I love most
In those luminous pools I see more than a person, I see a mirror
I see my connectedness and yet
There’s an immense need to defend what is mine

I wish I could stay here
Just for a little while longer
But we are all just passing through
I can only hope, this selfish desire
Is justified
Jabin Jul 2018
Three meager blackberries
not quite formed,
plucked too soon from the vine.

Like us,
you were not quite ripe.

But your sister is with us now.
Maybe I'll meet you someday.
in the waning days of my sojourn
when the Sun will set quicker than I remember
when I'll wish I'd taken advantage of a pain free body
and walked a bit longer in those fields of gold
searched my dreams for meaning
taken a few extra moments to absorb
the laughter of my children when they were mere toddlers
the mindset falls into one of waiting
as we drift off into the natural state of irrelevancy
like the favorite stuffed bear that is still loved
but has served its purpose
watching the world spin by upon a shelf
next to a copy of Tom Sawyer
I'd give all my remaining days
to re-live one of those fading memories
I'm finally back to writing new material after sifting through and revising some older pieces. Time to get back in the flow
My sons, there’re things I hope you’ve learned,
About the proper way to live. 
And with any respect I’ve earned,
I’ve fatherly advice to give. 

If you’re alone and can’t connect,
There’s a girl and you can’t reach her,
Know that love follows intellect. 
Aspire first to be her teacher. 

To say “I love you” frequently
Is only good if you are true. 
The pain of loving secretly
Will always eat away at you. 

Nurture your curiosity,
Though there’s sometimes no solution. 
Let asking be your specialty,
And learning your evolution.  

Identify the righteous way,
Aware of who you’re meant to be. 
Your mirror at least once per day,
Should reflect pride in what you see. 

Each morning that you see the sun,
Appreciate your sense of awe. 
Know your soul will always be one
With your father’s God of Torah. 

Always give yourself to others
You can’t be selfish and content. 
If you err and hurt another,
It should never be with intent. 

When life gives you a broken heart,
Even if that heart is not yours,
Just find some wisdom to impart. 
Let self-compassion open doors. 

When you have children of your own,
And I’m in Heaven up above,
Know this, my son, you’re not alone—
Inside you is your father’s love.
https://store.bookbaby.com/book/insights-hurt
Desmond the poet Apr 2018
Impatient, once we were.
Patience suited the only option we had.
To wait for God’s precious gift.
Patiently we wait for her birth date.
We patiently waited to know her gender.

Seconds turned to minutes.
Minutes turned to hours.
Hours turned to weeks.
Weeks turned to months.
For nine months we waited.
29th January 2012, we got our treasure.

The waiting is but not over.
Now we wait to see her growth.
We patiently wait to see her teen years.
What kind of parent will she be?
Will God’s grace and patience lead us to her grandparenthood?
This poem is dedicated to my six year old daughter.
Mike Chigo Mar 2018
In the wake of Dawn
She cries and moans
In her womb was a little one
Alas she’s delivered of a son
“Welcome My Boy to the World”

He finds comfort in her warmth and
Finally decides she should be Mom
He looks around with dreamy eyes
Straight into her tear filled eyes
He cant understand what was wrong
But ‘tis her way of showing Joy
“Get Ready for Life Boy…Get ready”

In comes a man who embraces Mom
Carries him up and says praise to God
The way he smiled says he was Dad
He felt so strong to be in these arms
And slept hearing these words twice
“Welcome To Life, Welcome To Life”
This was my very 1st complete poem. I wrote this when I was 17
Francie Lynch Nov 2017
The disembodied radio host asked:
If you could live a past experience,
What would you choose?

I searched my far and recent memories.
What would it be?
Some thought ensued...
Then some more.
A week's gone by. Here's why.
Seven days ago...
I'd like, I thought, to bumper-jump
In four inch snow.
Then six days ago...
The tender, innocent, inviting experience
Of my most amazing, surprising and tantalizing
First Kiss.
Then five days ago...
My university years. They happened once.
Then four days ago...
Achieving a pleasing place with my avocation.
Then three days ago...
The first born, second born, third born. Daddyhood.
Then two days ago...
My happy and contented first day of retirement.
One day ago...
A Guiness and a shot of Jameson. Grandahood.
And today?
What would I like to re-experience...
Many more days
Like today.
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