Read Poetry: PUT ME TO SLEEP BEFORE IT COMES, by Sarah Francisco

Genre: Love, Fear, Sadness, Death, Loneliness

Put me to sleep before it comes
I pray that everything in me completely numbs
I cannot face it, seeing it coming back
Put me to sleep and don’t wake me up

Sleep is death’s kindred, a kindness
That approaches by night and lets
A weary soul get rest — solace
A way out of pain and sadness

Put me to sleep before it comes
An assault of memories — keeps on
Distracting me from my escape
It insists — keeping me awake

There is no running away in
The night when everyone is kept
Tight by a blanket of arms — so
Put me to sleep before it comes

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My Escape, A Poem by Amy Miller

In this wild-scape
Trapped by my fear
My heart heaves
A sigh of damp air

Bring me to the surface
Let me see the light
Otherwise I’ll be caught down here
In my own fight

Genres: love, sadness, hope, pain, challenges, fear, wisdom, divinity, escape.

MY ESCAPE
by Amy Miller

In this wild-scape
Trapped by my fear
My heart heaves
A sigh of damp air

Bring me to the surface
Let me see the light
Otherwise I’ll be caught down here
In my own fight

What do you see
Across the sea
A land of salvation
why can’t it be me

Hear my name
See thy face
Hidden beneath
my own disgrace

Bring me to the surface
Let me see the light
Otherwise I’ll be caught down here
In my own fight

Beauty is deep
Caught up in the folds
Trying to escape
The traps and the cold

What is the answer
A knowing to unfold
To gather me up
And embrace me like gold

A heart that cracks open
And pain to wring out
A wish to come back
And see myself whole

Bring me to the surface
Let me see the light
Otherwise I’ll be caught down here
In my own fight

 

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Dream Ahead, Poetry 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

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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The One Night Stand, Poetry by Carolyne M. Acen

Alone and confused
No written pattern for the previous night
No special one night creed to relate
The price of guilt now marked
on her face, drawn in sheets tainted in sex.

Genre: Regret, Sadness, Lust

The One Night Stand.
by Carolyne M. Acen

Alone and confused
No written pattern for the previous night
No special one night creed to relate
The price of guilt now marked
on her face, drawn in sheets tainted in sex.

Ephemeral, quick to leave!
Awake but in denial to what
happened the previous night.
Memories still fresh like the pathetic
fumes of cigar and cheap alcohol
still lingering in the hotel room
A haunting most sufficient.

Surreal moments lavished in the
arms of a stranger who is used
to dishing out the same tale.
Promises were not made, emotions lingered
Hasty retreats were undertaken and
passions were aflame…
culminating to crazy sex scenes.
Time caught up with their frenzied love
space and spent embraces dissolved.
She must have passed out after all that
alcohol intoxication.

He left without a word
Not a message or address to relate to.
A face almost as familiar as the
taste of Oreos on a cold evening.
Clutching onto torn sheets,
memories painstaking,
bitter truth now embalmed in her nakedness
Time veered on unceremoniously
The sun followed suite unanimously
A quiet reckoning the walk of shame
The hotel dimmed low,
receding as the one night stand.

©Carolyne M. Acen 2015

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