Family Poems
Father Son And Holy Ghost
by Audre Lorde
I have not ever seen my father's grave.
Not that his judgment eyes
have been forgotten
nor his great hands' print
on our evening doorknobs
one half turn each night
and he would come
drabbled with the world's business
massive and silent
......
Hiawatha's Photographing
by Lewis Carroll
From his shoulder Hiawatha
Took the camera of rosewood,
Made of sliding, folding rosewood;
Neatly put it all together.
In its case it lay compactly,
Folded into nearly nothing;
But he opened out the hinges,
Pushed and pulled the joints and hinges,
Till it looked all squares and oblongs,
......
Unlearning
by Kara Prince
Mama and Daddy are good people. Mama picks up prescriptions for the elderly, and Daddy reads to elementary schoolers long after both kids got their degrees. But when it comes to being a partner, this is what they taught me: love works like a dog that you forget to feed, love means always sacrificing, because anything else would be greed. Love means always bending and folding at another's words, and sending the kids to bed so you can draw your swords. Love is a prison sentence for which you can't remember the cause, but you never tell anyone your love has flaws.
I learned my lesson, so I’ve run from love like a Smith and Wesson. But this crooked smile given so easily and freely, well, it has me thinking maybe love isn’t that at all, really. When he holds me, and I try to run, he doesn’t chase me, but reminds me there is a seat next to him for one. He tells me I am smart, that I am strong, and beautiful, and that sometimes I am too willing to be dutiful. I tell him to love me like he's cooking a frog, slowly at first, so I won’t jump scared and head for the bog. This boy is honest and patient, his love is simple and kind, he makes me feel like love shouldn’t hurt. I hope for his sake I can mend my own mind.
The Duel
by Eugene Field
The gingham dog and the calico cat
Side by side on the table sat;
'T was half-past twelve, and (what do you think!)
Nor one nor t' other had slept a wink!
The old Dutch clock and the Chinese plate
Appeared to know as sure as fate
There was going to be a terrible spat.
(I wasn't there; I simply state
What was told to me by the Chinese plate!)
......
Melancholy
by Ella Tudor
Melancholy
Ultramarine, cerulean blue—
a cordial, yet fervent orange.
Clouds dance
with adjacent pink
and pearl grey,
separate parts of four souls
becoming indistinguishable
within a singular picture.
Do you decimate and violate art
......
A Favorite Hymn
by Evelyn Judy Buehler
Sharla Rhodes' father was a minister, like answering God's calling.
Her happiest memories were of Sundays, like silken petals, falling.
Her mother was proud of them! They all attended church regularly.
Sharla, brother Otis, and sister Sage, romped 'neath skies of honey.
Loving holy scriptures and Jesus, when birds sang in maroon garb,
Dad was choirmaster and wrote hymns. Like red cardinal's remark.
Night fairies had flown by morning, when the tangelo sun arose;
......
De wortels van mijn bestaan
by Mario Odekerken
Mijn oorsprong begint niet bij mezelf
maar reikt terug door ongetelde jaren
in de stille volharding van het land van Zuid-Limburg
waar de aarde meer onthoudt dan stemmen kunnen dragen.
Onder de oppervlakte liggen de sporen
van wie mij voorgingen
handen die paden vormden uit noodzaak en persistentie
hun voetstappen gedrukt in aarde en tijd
tot ze richting werden zonder nog naam te zijn.
......
Unlearning
by Kara Prince
Mama and Daddy are good people. Mama picks up prescriptions for the elderly, and Daddy reads to elementary schoolers long after both kids got their degrees. But when it comes to being a partner, this is what they taught me: love works like a dog that you forget to feed, love means always sacrificing, because anything else would be greed. Love means always bending and folding at another's words, and sending the kids to bed so you can draw your swords. Love is a prison sentence for which you can't remember the cause, but you never tell anyone your love has flaws.
I learned my lesson, so I’ve run from love like a Smith and Wesson. But this crooked smile given so easily and freely, well, it has me thinking maybe love isn’t that at all, really. When he holds me, and I try to run, he doesn’t chase me, but reminds me there is a seat next to him for one. He tells me I am smart, that I am strong, and beautiful, and that sometimes I am too willing to be dutiful. I tell him to love me like he's cooking a frog, slowly at first, so I won’t jump scared and head for the bog. This boy is honest and patient, his love is simple and kind, he makes me feel like love shouldn’t hurt. I hope for his sake I can mend my own mind.
Home; Address
by Kara Prince“I made it home safe!” That text was a lie. Yes, I am safe, but I am not home. The weather app says it's cloudy, but I must scroll to a new city to see the same sun outside my window. I never know what to say when the receptionist asks for my permanent address. I could give the meaningless string of numbers that decorate the front porch of my leased space, but they asked about my home. Home is where my father etched my name into the still-wet concrete that boasted countless chalk masterpieces. Home is where my mother notched out the only proof that I was once the bigger sibling. Home is where I had a brother I could scream at through a slammed door, not schedule a call with from hundreds of miles apart. Where I live now boasts wine glasses and brie, and yet I am hungry for home, with its expired condiments and cozy mess.
Continue readingThe Synagogue of Medics
by Fidelis Peter Olowu
People can blow their trumpets
And make it sound so loud everywhere
But in the synagogue of medics
They become quiet and meek,
They let lose of the tiger in them
And cause havoc just to prove strength
But in the synagogue of medics
They regret and pay for their actions
People can be terribly stingy
......
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Slava P, aka Maximus Decimus Meridius (3 poems about Family)
October 31st, 1970 - Kyiv, Ukraine and since 1992 - New Jersey, USA -
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