You’re the son of wrath
conceived with rage
weakly loved
abandoned
sheltered by pride
raised
Genre: FAMILY, LIFE, PAINFUL, SOCIETY, LEGACY.
Heredity A poem by Grecia Albornoz
You’re the son of wrath
conceived with rage
weakly loved
abandoned
sheltered by pride
raised
reassured
in a world full of ill conceived people
abandoned
reassured
wanting to repeat cycles.
“You’re not the boss of me!” the kindergartner said
When his mommy told him, “Son, now it’s time for bed!”
“Wait till I turn 18, I’ll do just as I please”
Said the boy to his father as he took away his keys
“I’m 21 and DRINK; stop me if you dare!”
Genre: Family
You’re Not the Boss of Me!By Cindi Walton
“You’re not the boss of me!” the kindergartner said
When his mommy told him, “Son, now it’s time for bed!” “Wait till I turn 18, I’ll do just as I please”
Said the boy to his father as he took away his keys “I’m 21 and DRINK; stop me if you dare!”
His folks were concerned, but he didn’t really care
College came and went, and a job he did procure
Found a pretty brunette and asked to marry her
Bought a house in “Newville” where everything was new
The boss of his own destiny, to do as he would do
The years went by and children came, one, then two, then three
He had it all, life was grand, and this was his decree
“Look Mom and Dad” I did succeed, I knew it all along
You didn’t have to ride my butt and tell me right from wrong!”
The seasons changed, his kids grew up and then they started school “You’re not our boss!” his children cried, he knew he’d been a fool
He saw now as a parent sees, through eyes just like his own
He knew he had a call to make, pulling out his phone
And when his parents answered, he said between his tears
You’re the “best boss” a kid could have; I thank you for the years
You never walked away and let me run amuck
The things you meant to teach, I DO BELIEVE they’ve stuck
Until we are a parent and see what parents’ see
We never can appreciate just how we came to be
Thank you to my Mom and Dad, who led, and did not fold
And made me see the value of ….Do as you are told!
I looked deeper in
aching to abyss to understand
And I understoodtand
And I understood
Genre: Healing, Family, Relationship
Mending Mother by Leslie Caplan
I found a photograph at the bottom
of an unopened box
Crackling cardboard dried out from
being rained on
I reached in
Sifting through old letters,
scrawls of random thoughts,
poems that turned into
a thousand page book
I poured it out
onto the open floor
let the air in
let the stream of yellow light
spill in
and wrap around each keepsake
At the bottom,
under the fold and crease where the box
holds itself together
was a picture
At first I thought it was me
But it was you
as a young, budding woman
in a black and white capture
of your innocence
How hopeful your eyes gleaned
how deep the longing for what’s ahead
I held the photo in my hand
sat under the window and let the light
magnify your face
I saw myself
The face of the womb in which I grew
before I was even a thought
in your world
So long before an injection of insane
came in and corrupted your radiant youth
and the palpable wisdom
held in the cup your hand
So young and ivory skinned
Plump in cheeks and heart
And even though the picture was black and white
I saw the rosy tint of freshness
on your face
Your rich light almond eyes
I could see right through
You were lovely.
To the core of my holding
Soft before the world you inhaled
made you bitter to a pucker
Your hands mirrored mine
The shape of your brow
the shine of your lips long before
they dried out from all the salted cries you swallowed
You were beautiful.
I looked deeper in
aching to abyss to understand
And I understood
That somewhere along that paved line of your life
your heart caved
and shattered into too many pieces
to pick up and put back together
and you had to pretend
to be unbroken
pretend to love the man you married
and bore three daughters with
that you pretended you knew what to do with
And all you could do
was raise them inside
the shattered chamber you held together
for the sake of their survival
praying they’d thrive
in spite you
and I did.
I can speak for myself and say I did
And I took what was good in you
sane and whole in you
and I found my way
with what you did give me
life
courage
fire
and eyes so deep they blink
off the stillness of a photograph
and shed a tear so fertile
it grows life
mends and heals and breathes into
my whole life
within and without you
my life in honor
of you.
He tries so hard to grab his red rattle
Staring intently as his hands reach out
One day soon he will win this next battle
Previous victories leave me no doubt
Genre: Rhyme, Family, People
His Red Rattle
by Chris Biscuiti
He tries so hard to grab his red rattle
Staring intently as his hands reach out
One day soon he will win this next battle
Previous victories leave me no doubt
He might not be able to smash his cake
But he’ll definitely love the flavor
With all he’s accomplished make no mistake
It’s been a year we will truly savor
He’ll have birthdays where he blows out candles
and unwraps all of his shiny new toys
One of these years he’ll easily handle
all the goodies given to birthday boys
This year we get the best gift there can be:
Six months without spasms and seizure free
I will not let them look at you sadly
and I know how you want it so badly
to look at the stars and grab with your hands
to do little boy things your mind commands
Genre: Family, Rhyme, Sadness
Dream Ahead
by Chris Biscuiti
I will not let them look at you sadly
and I know how you want it so badly
to look at the stars and grab with your hands
to do little boy things your mind commands
You will get there son, I can see your will
you’ll ride rollercoasters just for the thrill
we will chant and scream for the New York Mets
when they break our hearts we’ll have no regrets
Today grandpa held you close on the couch
and grandma fed you another fruit pouch
she calls you her peach as you beg for more
mommy lights up as she comes through the door
I read you Goodnight Moon just before bed
as you doze off tonight I dream ahead
About the Poem:
My son Brayden was diagnosed with a rare seizure condition known as Infantile Spasms. He has since been treated and has been seizure free since he was 6 months old.
He is about to be 1 year-old on November 5th, and while he is severely developmentally delayed, we are just so blessed and so lucky to have a happy baby boy.
I wrote this poem about my dreams for Brayden, hopefully in some way this poem could shed some light onto an under-researched, unknown condition that is very serious and can really use the support and awareness that other conditions have.
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