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 Jul 2016
Valsa George
My son, to us, you’re so very special
For reasons not just one or two!
But when you announced your arrival first
At an unexpected time and age-

Was it with joy or fear, still not so sure
That I first felt the faint stirrings of life inside
Sure, when you barged in more like a late night guest
You gifted us with a mixed pack

After eight months of anxious wait
When you showed up a little earlier than due
With a clear shriek and a piercing cry
All our fears vanished, all anxiety fled

Like a cute little kitten with eyes shut
You slept peacefully day and night
Refusing to **** your mother’s breast
That again put your mom in severe stress

You never threw any tantrums wild
As all other babies usually do
Pleasantly gentle with a chuckling smile
You were a spring flower, come alive

You readily accepted the cast away stuff;
Broken toys and milk stained bib,
Faded clothes and the little crib,
Used recklessly by your naughty brother

You never gave us any stress or pain
Even in days of adolescent strain
You were ever gentle and ready to mingle
With eyes lit up with a delectable twinkle

You are endowed with a loving heart
When we are glum, you are by our side
Your compassion, care and abiding love
Are truly gifts, God has blessed you with

You know every nook and corner of the house
Where each little thing placed and kept
If something is amiss inside the house
You run with a click and get it by trick or fluke

As you left for studies, miles away
The house looks empty like an abandoned nest
With no more songs in early dawn
Until once you return to give it a tilt

Time will fly and you’ll be grown
An adult, ready to soar into the world
But you are the reason that keeps us young
And give our tired legs an unusual spring

You lit our yesterdays with hopes for tomorrow
And even after your hairline recedes
Even after you become man and Dad
You remain once and ever our *‘Vava’ dear!
I conceived my second son at a late age. Naturally we had fears if the baby would be healthy.  But God proved our fears to be irrational.... He became our joy and has been with us through out..... a very understanding and compassionate fellow! I wrote this poem four years ago, soon after he left home for his medical studies. I got inspired to post it on seeing Kristy Renae Dalton’s poem
My (((Son-Shine)))    
‘Vava’ is a term of endearment to refer to a baby !
As wearily as I feel at times here in this world.
As though the battles at times never cease to stop.
I have something far greater then gold and rubies.
Its the friendship of these beautiful and awesome people.
That life far outweigh any ocean liners that hit the shore.
I am by far so grateful for each and every one of you.
You make my life worth living, you and the Lord Jesus.
I shall come back on soon to be blessed by you all.
I want each and every one of you to know you are special.
 Jul 2016
Dark n Beautiful
The same ones who's afraid of
Of the black man is also afraid of poetry
And why are they afraid of poetry?

One might say because of the sound.
They are afraid of the black race,
Who God has blessed let no man curse
One might wonder why: Oh my God, Why?
I definitely think it because of the sounds.
The whispering sound of the wind,
the sound of tortures soul being dragged off into the night
chain, being dragged, video cameras flashing and recording ,

The unsettled soul of their ancestors wicked deals haunts them daily.
The loud bewitching sound of the African drums that echo in their mind,
The tainted blood of the guilty flows in their veins,

However, when would it stop?
When would their accepted that
Guilt, shame and embarrassment are universal emotions
that are among the most painful of human experiences one could ever endure


That guilt travel thought-out history, the black race will rise again
Another man down!
Another input for the history books.
Another march on Washington DC
Certain sounds scares us............
 Jul 2016
Nishu Mathur
Sweeter than the song of a nightingale 
Gentler than the whisper of a spring wind
Quieter than the murmur of  summer  grass 
Softer than the symphony of hyacinths 

Hypnotic like the splash of blue seas
Tinkling like a stream that flows 
Mesmerizing like the cadence of rain 
Enchanting like the hush  of snow 

Like the faint breath of a scarlet dawn 
The rustle of clouds on a turquoise high 
A duet of  night and an ivory moon
A Capella of  stars in the sky

A hymn, a chant, a choir of angels 
Singing  on a rainbow of time 
Celestial is the serenade of love  
A tune and a note divine.
************
Thank you for your wonderful responses and I am so happy this poem was selected today. Means a lot to me... :)
 Jul 2016
Stephen E Yocum
Creation in a dew drop, seed to grass, sapling to tree,
***** to egg, to progeny. All is life, a pattern seen,
Continually repeated, yet never just the same.

The cycles of life do churn,
while time passes undisturbed.
All living things diminishing in turn,
until reaching our fragile, predictable ends.

Blue Orb Earth continues to spin and
creation persists, seemingly forever undeterred.
 Jul 2016
Keith Wilson
Another  day  is  over.
Another  day  is  done.
This  week  went  past  so  quickly.
This  week  went  by  so  fast.
My  life  has  gone  so  quickly.
Old  men  told  me  so.
And  now  I  tell  the  young  men.
That  life  to  quickly  goes.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2016.
 Jul 2016
South-by-Southwest
I was told a brain on poem was a terrible thing to waste . To which I retorted ,"Which one is wasted?"
 Jul 2016
danny
oh god i would do anything to see leaves or fireworks or forget-me-nots or snow or tadpoles or anything extending beyond the current day

i'm sorry that our plans never made it to blueprints 

is there something about me that screams impermanence?

am i the human embodiment of a rest stop?
I hold my ears keen
Keep eyes opened wide
But can't solve the riddle
Of who's on whose side.

Today Tom heaps praise
Showers laurels too many
Tomorrow hell is raised
Tim is Tom's enemy.

How fast makes Tom amend
Finds Tim full of flaws
Pete is now his friend
Tim Tom unfollows.

He digs out wrongs of Tim
Finds him crooked and sly
So inducts in his team
Pete the nicest guy.

I can't hold back smile
Though at end of wit
How friendship is volatile
Sour turns a relation sweet.

I wonder why it's so
With life such a brief ride
We never really grow
Feel the need to be on same side.
 Jul 2016
Stephan
.

Watching the rise and the fall of a kingdom
Walls once rebuilt again tumble the ground
Allowing the beasties free reign in the village
Bellowing out o’er the wickedest sound

Pacing the streets, seeking out bits of garbage
Leaving their stains on the innocent few
Leering in windows where children are hiding
Tender young things and so easy to chew

Thieves in the night lurk about come the morning
Stealing the sun at the break of the dawn
Drinking of sewage a’ flow in the gutters
Checking off names as the many are gone

Peering ‘round corners, down alleys, in shadows
Seeking the favor of all who do grieve
Laughing in spite of the torment now growing
Licking their lips in the hope you believe

Roaming in groups so the followed outnumber
Say what you will for the king does not hear
Lost in his throne made of mirrors that flatter
Shivering, cowering, caving to fear

Deaf to the villagers asking for reason
Blind to the pillage befalling this land
Dumb, well I guess that just goes without saying
Nary a care what the people demand

Feasting on turkey, potatoes and gravy
Raising a glass to the enemy proud
Taking a stand against those who support him
Locking the front doors while yelling aloud

“Carry your torches, your pitchforks, your honor
It matters not for this evil shall win
Even when gone there are echoes of anger
Lingering on till they come back again

Give them your all, what you’ve poured your heart into
Down on your knees, bow to them one and all
Step over rock and the piles of rubble
This castle will stand even when the walls fall

Shout all you like as no change is forthcoming
Accept it or flee, you think I give a ****
When you are gone many more will replace you
Now pass those peas and a slice of that ham”


So roam the beasties, their teeth ever sharpened
Fanning the flames as so many are burned
Tearing apart what the people envisioned
Silly to think that they somehow had learned

Nothing so happy with no ever after
Always the same, it will happen again
But unlike some other long winded stories
Sadly in this I can not say “the end”

Watching the rise and the fall of a kingdom
Walls once rebuilt again tumble the ground
Thankfully I can peruse from a distance
Witnessing all without hanging around
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