writing poetry is not easy, in fact your born with it.
some people say i cant do it, i agree.

As i sit here next to my inspiration i think, i think and think

my mind turning and turning just for the idea to come.
WHEN.....

i get the idea I've been looking for.

Hush little baby,
don't say a word
cause mama is crying
and there's no mocking bird

and we know the mockingbird won't return,
so mama's gonna say go back to sleep, her tone stern.

Wait, where is that shiny ring mama likes?
Mama says she told it to take a hike.

She stepped on the shiny, jagged objects at last,
but mama says it's just the broken looking glass.

Didn't papa say he'll buy you a billy goat?
But mama says ¨not another word out of your throat.¨

How about that bull and cart you were promised?
Mama said papa was never honest.

When will we buy a dog named Rover?
Mama looked at you and said it was all over.

You dreamed of the day you'd have a horse and cart,
so you could leave and mama won't see you depart.

Now your life is lived with a grain of salt,
and mama never said it wasn't your fault.

Hush little baby,
don't say a word
mama loves you very much
but papa won't return.

My mother used to hate me. Shortly after she found out she was pregnant with me she started to hate me. She tried to get an abortion, but I wouldn't die. She tried to vacuum me out but I just wouldn't let go... She was late 5 days on her due day , 'cause i just wouldn't leave. She hated me all the way out of her ******, through the ****** and finally out. She hated breastfeeding me, she hated putting me to sleep and changing my diapers. She hated the day i said my first word, "mama", she cursed the day i started to walk. She hated going to my kindergarten recitals, she hated all the contests I won in grade school. As I finished the 8th grade, I left and I moved to a big city with my sister, for grater education and a better life. She didn't say a word before I left, nor the following weeks. Papa was crushed, she lived happily... Until one day, three months later. I was on my way to school, when, in front of the building I saw papa and her. She looked awful. As she saw me she started crying and ran to me. She hugged me and kissed me for minutes, as she kept saying "I love you so much...I'm so sorry...I missed you so much...". Papa said she didn't eat, she couldn't sleep for weeks and she was devastated. I went upstairs with them, I laid her on my bed and she fell asleep in my arms, shivering and whispering, with big tears running down her pale chin...She never woke up... I love you, mama...
                                                        ­                                             DCimpean
                                                        ­                                                       2014

I laid on the bridge and looked up at the stars
Reached out my hand thinking I could touch mars
This is what poems are made of

A small glance at you with a grin in return
Stomach butterflies and a heart that can yearn
This is what poems are made of

On a swing with my friends under a never-ending sky
Jumping and wishing my body could fly
This is what poems are made of

Reading a book that makes me glad I can feel
Ink on a page can seem so much more real
This is what poems are made of

Riding in a car with the windows rolled down
A song on the radio, cruising through town
This is what poems are made of

A smile, a sob, a laugh and a grin
A story, a memory, two good deeds and one sin
This is what poems are made of

Yes,
This is what poems are made of