Author: poetryfest

In the gentle hush of yuletide’s embrace,
Crown on her head, adorned with grace.
No need for jewels to convey her worth,
For a mother’s love transcends this lifeless earth.

There’s a silent strength in her eyes, a soothing balm,
Her touch, a shelter from the rolling sea and a raging storm.
Earthing and dancing, a child singing lullaby as her mother’s praise,
For her thoughts and essence shines through endless days.

In her arms, a sanctuary of sunbeam and care,
A handmade house of love, steadfast and rare.
Spiritual or diabolical, no need to describe her heart,
For it beats in creative rhythm of imagination, a timeless art.

She weaves a tapestry of selfless devotion,
Nurturing dreams with unwavering emotion.
No need for mirror to capture her might,
For her love’s radiance is a guiding light.

Her choices of words, a melody of comfort and cheer,
Wiping away every trace of turning blue or fear.
No need for sounds to utter her name,
For her presence alone ignites a flame.

With every breath, she imparts life’s lessons,
A merlion, a mentor, in all her expressions.
No need for inspection to define her role,
For she’s the embodiment of a priceless soul.

So, let us honor her death in word and in deed,
With gratitude and love spreading across the universe, as we succeed.
No need for colors to paint her picture,
For a mother’s love needs no script to be richer

Mom, I miss you…

Grief is completely and utterly consuming. Spoken from someone who has experienced grief for many reasons. One thing I will say-the loss of your mother just hits different. Like an uppercut straight to the soul, you lose half of yourself. Time-is what they say helps heal pain. There is no amount of time that can help this pain pass. I need you now more than ever, my mother. You are the reason I am who I am today. The strength that flowed through you so effortlessly-I did not give credit when credit was do. Mountains of courage taken for weakness, mother I am sorry. A simple phone call so I can say all these words to you-nothing I want more. There is nowhere unless you are here, and here is where I must live without you forever more. I feel your love through my daughter, your granddaughter. It’s something spiritual, cosmic even. Oh, my beautiful mother how I miss you.

Hey ma, can I get a hug?

I find myself dreaming of you-wanting, longing for a hug. Something I did not do enough of. If I had one more day with you, I would make it so special. It would be a day of complete love-from a daughter to her mother. You loved music, loved singing, loved dancing-the most beautiful you were when you would lose yourself in emotive movements. Why did it take me so long to see where I got my artistic side? I don’t know why I stood blind to all of you that is me. Painted pain on a canvas that is mine-it will be the most beautiful because it is a representation of the love a mother has for her daughter, and the unexplainable love that I have for you, my sweet mother. Pennies and stones-I feel you flowing through me every day-I guess you are giving me that hug after all.

Mother…

A sunflower in a bed a roses-you stood out like the light of million stars. You had your unconventional ways of handling situations, but you always got things done. Whether I agreed with your methods or not-we would just agree to disagree. Proving to me time and time again that you knew what you were doing, with the best of intentions. I need you to hear me-I’m putting my guard down. I won’t argue with you, I won’t challenge you-at 35 years old I finally let your love in, and it felt so good. I thought to myself “I could get used to this kind of love,” and then you left. I will keep that time frozen in the pocket of my heart and carry it with me forever and always. So that it may mend the fractured broken pieces I was left with. I am so grateful for those visiting hours-the time we were left with. I opened up to you without words. I’m glad you left knowing how much I loved you. Our last moment-you could only hear me. I held your hand and placed my forehead onto yours as I did when I was a child. With the playing song your husband, my father, would sing and dance with you-I told you it was ok to go home. I can’t wait to see you again, mother.

Her name is Elizabeth, and she was the best mother, grandmother, and daughter anyone could hope to have. I am immensely grateful for the mother I had and all the sacrifices she made for me and her family. I do not know the answers to the many questions that myself and others who have lost their mother have dwelling, but I do know the love of a mother is UNDYING.

~Absence of color
Smile lost
A pain ever so present-It consumes my soul
Forever and always, I will love you my beautiful mother
The hardest goodbye~

We live in the present universe now,
However, there are changes,
What does this new universe bring about to others?
In what part of the solar system does it exist?
These are questions to pose,
Are there any answers to them?
Our known universe keeps evolving,
This is just how it goes,
Are there other beings out there?
Do they live in a universe that is adjacent to ours?
Or is there just a new one on the horizon?
These are questions that are hard to answer,
The universe as we know it is, is what it is,
Keep an open mind about tomorrow,
Who knows what will happen?
For now, be good and be happy,
The future will continue in a good or bad way,
We as people will continue to live on planet Earth,
Take care and may a better tomorrow happen,
Seize each moment with open arms,
For now, and always, carpe diem.

Sakura petal falls,
Significant of the start,
Her memory is filled with flowers,
For the love blossoms in others,

The moment the flower dies,
She holds the withered flowers,
Hoping it blooms,
Just like her heart,

Those whispers,
Cause her eyes closed,
Singing to eternity,
To stop the pain,

There are many unhidden worlds,
Never able to be seen,
It’s left unbothered,
While she is crying for help,

But nobody heard,
Unlike to the ‘flowers’,
Remind her to stay,
To cherish the beauty of the sea,

Their scent is too far to reach,
Although of that,
Stills even though they knew her hands were bleeding,
She saw the love in her mind,

The smile and hope,
Faded time by time,
From that day they have been waiting,
For her heart to blossom,

Then the same night turned into raining star,
Just wait for a while,
To ignite the smile and hope,
So, she lives.

I’m not a stalker, trust.
Nor do I have a weird infatuation with you.
But I’ve been watching you for a year now.

I used to be the only girl getting on that 64 bus
passing by our stop at about 6:44 AM each morning.
Each weekday.

Then you appeared out of nowhere.
As the bus opened its doors, I got on. Then you.
I started keeping tabs on you since day 1.

You quickly became one of the regulars.
Always got on at the same stop.
Always walked over from the same direction.
Almost always had a pair of jeans on.

I’ve seen you for a year by now,
trying to put each bit of information I gleam off of you together
piece by piece. Like you’re a puzzle I wanted to solve.

I think I know where you reside,
as if I’m gonna show up at your doorstep someday.

I think you go to school in my district,
based on the stop you get off at.

I think you moved to my neighborhood recently,
once you started taking this bus
you took it for the rest of the school year.

In June, I saw you on the last day of school.
Surely, I wouldn’t see you over the summer.
The next time we’d meet
would be the next school year. I think.

The day I figured out the 64 bus that gets me to work on time
you were there. Wearing scrubs and an ID badge
around your neck. I became a scientist again,
collecting more data.

I think you wanna work in the medical field,

Your badge said “Beth Israel Hospital”

I think you took the 64 bus up to Central
before taking the 47 bus to work.

I still think you go to school in my district,
otherwise you couldn’t have worked there
over the summer.

The first day of the next school year,
I took a different route to school.
Familiarizing myself with this woman I had no data on.
I knew I’d go back to the 64 in the colder months.

Two weeks ago, I switched routes.
To the 64 bus at 6:44 AM.
As I waited for the bus to say hi,
you appeared from the same spot as always.
To take the same bus I take.

I’m not a stalker, trust.
Nor do I have a weird infatuation with you.
Nor am I a creep.

All I have is interest and a bottle
of curiosity, bubbling as if it’s about to explode.
I wanna get to know you.

You had a friend with you last year,
so I didn’t pay much attention.
But this year, its just you.
My curiosity fizzed, and I just wanna open up.

I feel like I’ve been staring at you too much,
you’ve probably caught on. Everyday as I wait for the bus
I turn away so you don’t see my face.
Keeping my classic poker face on,
but really behind it all I have all these thought bubbles.
I wanna get to know you.

I wanna know what your voice sounds like
how accurate my collected data is
when you moved here
where you’re from

your story
If you want to be friends
so that you no longer need to search
on Yubo.

To the stranger at the bus stop,
I wanna get to know you.
Do you wanna be friends?

I raised my kids
on sugar breakfast cereal
and Disney movies on repeat
juice was limitless
some days their only serving of fruit
they slept late
just so i could too
Some days were spent in pajamas all day long
Some days they picked out what to wear
Some days it was just a cape and underwear
naps were taken
when they were tired
rain days were fun
they splashed in puddles even
with no boots on
They ran barefoot
until it was dark
even, in dirt and mud
when they came home
I nursed their skinned knees
and mosquito bites
that went unnoticed
in the daylight
I tuck all in
Kiss each squeaky clean face
said good night
with a simple I loved you
Now, I sit quietly as i wonder how
my kids somehow turned out alright
despite the fact i let them be kids

From the mountains to the valleys
We know which way our destiny runs
Follow your stars
Go on go on go on

We’re a courageous crew as ever has been
Traveling with the bravest of men
Leading us on without a fear
Galloping on with our noses in the air

We ride far thru the forest
For freedom we fight
Doing the Lord’s bidding
We are guardians of right

For glory and honor for this we live
Our lives for our kingdom is what we give
Come along, come along
Heed the call

With death knocking at our door
He hardly says a thing at all
Armed with everything he could need
A sword, a shield, and a dream

“Lay it down” he says
Yet, here we are creeping
Closer to danger and trouble
And the man begins weeping

Don’t tell, don’t tell please
As brave Sir Robin falls to his knees
I am scared, I am scared
I want to leave
When danger reared its ugly head
Brave Sir Robin turned and fled
The minstrel sang out, “You ran away!”
“No, I didn’t” was all he could say

After Dave Smith’s “The Old Whore Speaks to the Young Poet”

This is the way we do it, see,
packaging poetry.
First you hang out at a university
and consume all the right texts,
like APR and AWP,
and snub your nose at the rest,
and soon you’ll be the academy.

The fact is, I’m ignoring your question
which is your first lesson.
Never give a damn for your audience;
I’m a famous poet,
when I read for a bunch of peons,
I get paid for it.
In fact, I’ve made it a science.

Which is more than I can say of her
who also somehow sits up here
Collecting her poetry check like a man
to my immediate left.
But then everyone’s to my left, I’m sure,
except perhaps Ezra Pound,
whom I try to mention whenever I can.

I’m a born and bred Virginian,
a Southern gentleman.
I never could be crass or rude,
or take a lady’s name in vain,
or eat cold cornbread out of the pan,
or say a simple-minded thang
unless, of course, I’m in the mood.

Finally, make friends, flatter your colleagues,
both the peevish and the prigs.
Someday you’ll want to anthologize them,
create a new canon,
which means putting aces up each other’s sleeves
against mere fashion,
an inside straight to the great tradition

Bathed in darkness, ever wetted
Sunlight peeks through single slit

Seldom shine the polished pillars
Wallowing in silver spit

Huddled like a witch’s coven
‘Round the altar of the worm

Flattened beast of nimble muscle
Darts and writhes and curls and turns

Bound by pulsing veins and sinew
Chained unto its fleshy throne

Strains to breach that pliant border
Spurred by forces yet unknown