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Poetry |
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Good Old Friends What happened to the good friends that I used to know? It seems their minds have closed and their hearts have turned into broken stone. The pieces are
lost, and now I can’t find them.
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The Ecstatic
neon orange, florescent yellow.
beaming down on the land.
I am a young pup returning to my lost family.
I am a homeless person attending a feast to fill my grumbling stomach
I am a child openning
presents on Christmas day.
I am the bride, standing before her husband to be waiting to say, “I do.”
playing with my new Legos.
I am the African Americans finally freed from slavery.
I am the lucky person who just won the lottery.
I am a twinkle in the eyes of a cancer survivor.
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Make your way to my heart And you’ll soon see It’s been torn apart Never have I felt this way I guess it’s time that I pay The price for what I’ve done The price for you My only one I love you so much I want to feel Your one last touch I want to see Your face light up Just like it did when You gave your heart to me You took it back and I must ask Do you have regret For that last task I want you to know How much I love you so Never again will I say Anything else that may Change the way I felt that day The day that you said you would Love me as you thought you should Give me one last chance And I promise that I’ll never do this anymore I love you and that’s all that I really want to say I never thought it would end that way. I only wish that you loved me The way I love you The way that no one could But even still the way you should |
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One moment was all it took A breath of time—just one And he was gone Ripped from her arms Torn from her heart One moment was all it took To ruin her life forever Forced to wander through life alone Hopelessly alone One moment was all it took The Arts
What writer writes for money? What painter will paint for cash? What musician pays the bills, Unless he’s bold or brash?
Who writes but will never read? Who sees paintings but painters? Who can know the songs true heart, Unless they’ve sung along?
Art’s become a rarer thing, Treasured in hidden places. Savored by humanity, Ignored by the faces.
So how can human art live on? The few, the proud, the poor.
-- Bridget Wass |
Ghost
A lifetime of pain. Here I stand in this empty room, Dancing with your silver ghost. Box-stepping the pain away. The globe of memories swirls upwards, Photos and old feelings float out of reach. Every sapling of will power I had left Melts away.
Every weakness, Every sliver of pain. The room grows cold Evaporates into thin air.
-- Mary Stirn
***************** Joy The day is finally here Today is our day We will become one.
He will become mine forever From this day on We will be together forever
Look—here she comes My angel, my light, my heart It’s time—I do
-- Mariah Teerink |
The
smallest tear can show 
The
smallest tear shows|
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I Am My Own
I have no inspiration I am my own Completely Independent I stand alone
I have no inspiration I am gentle like my mom Firm and loving like dad With wisdom gained from Grandma I stand alone
I have no inspiration I puzzle like my brother Play harder than my sis Astounded by the baby I stand alone
I have no inspiration Stronger than And those who keep her safe Free just like the preacher man I stand alone
I have no inspiration I am my own Completely Independent I stand alone --Bridget Wass |
Never stopping the search Always trying to find that one final bliss That one moment where it all stops That one extreme found only once That bliss found by so few Found, I found it; finally It’s mine until death I am one of the few I have found the bliss -- Mariah Teerink The Voice A voice cries out in the night Knowing without seeing That he is gone Feeling his life slipaway Knowing he’s gone Pain tearing her heart in half Shoving her to the ground A voice cries out in the night
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Final
Message
I don’t want to leave you I don’t want to go, yet I have to. There’s nothing I can do Remember me. I must go. Goodby—my heart. -- Mariah Teerink |
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The
Family Christmas
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It’s Christmas the Christmas tree
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The
Christmas Tree What will we do when the Yule-tidings
are through? All dressed in glory, They never seem to last, No paper, no
pencils, no lumber for our homes, |
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The
stockings were hung, the tree lights were lit
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Immigrante Coming to an unknown land Those who left many things behind. Some are brothers, others are fathers and also the son of a proud mother Here are the poor, illegal men Who left their land Who abandoned their home and crossed the In search for a better life Here is the poor Senior Immigrante He carries so many worries
Of not getting caught by cops or immigration And being sent back to his country Leaving his kids and family in an unknown land -- Esther Lopez
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black and brown tall and short all here for the same reason all crossed the border through the through the desert risking their lives all for the American Dream
not knowing if they will ever see them again scared to get caught by the because they will send them back to their miseries
they just tell immigration that they are from and the next day they are across the border still fighting for that American dream -- Maria Mauricio |
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I’m the child I’m the mother I cry I hold your hand I ride my bike I watch you with joy I laugh at anything I laugh with you I’m tired I smile and carry you to bed I fall asleep I kiss you goodnight—and
fall asleep too |
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Always
with fear
young
and old
leaving
their families behind
but
if they get caught