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'the kid' leaps  sudden  from bed                    
points  in fright  toward the 'hippy' curtains
                      "i'm scared of ghosts in pyjamas"
11/2024
actual event - credit goes to my five year old
Kaiden Lewis Nov 22
All adults were once children
There are no exceptions
And that's what's truly heartbreaking
Villians are made, not born
At least not always

Every angsty drug dealer
Every teacher
Every depressed poet
Every grave

When you see a homeless person
Do you ever wonder what their life has been before?
They were just a child
With hope
Hope which died along with their innocence
In every person there exists a child
Hello Daisies Nov 21
My biggest dream
When I was little
Surrounded by those so brittle
Was relationships
Love
Everything in between
And above

Now that I'm older
I found them
I've had my heart stolen
I've seen stars above
And wonders around
Til I ended up on the ground
Heart broken

Then again
Evermore
I found a dream love
Rough at first
Hard to tame
Now we're changing
Our last names
Soft and plush
Endless lush

Now what?
What do I do
What do I be
Am I happy?
Who is me?
I spent years alone
Some ok
Most with stones
I thought I knew
Me
I thought I knew
Destiny

Am I God's child
Am I young and wild
Am I caged and broken
Sickly and bedridden
What's my purpose
What's my goal
Will I ever know

Is having fun enough
Is being in love enough
Why do I feel so rough
Am I a mother in waiting
A loner always hating
A musician and poet
Lost at sea before you know it

I'm coasting
The shoreline of life
Ive lived some
But who do I become
Years stolen
Now constantly
Unknown
Fun and comfort
Fighting for health
Is this my wealth?

I think everyone feels empty
Or mostly.
I feel ghostly
Barren and cold
Dead to any life shown
Emotional and overblown
If this is normal
That's devastating
I want a goal
I want to know
Is God real
What is it that I feel
Am I failing God
Am I failing me
What's destiny

I'm bored
I'm empty
Like once before
A child wishing for plenty
She still hasn't gone
I'm terrified
This is where she stays
And forever belongs

A constant sad song


I have so much to love
Yet so much to grief
I want a reprieve
I want a happy tune
A beautiful moon
A snowy night
No more goodbyes
I want to know myself
And my life
I want to own it
I want to know God
And all there is

I want to find bliss
No more emptiness
That child is scared
Every night
Every day
It's hard to breathe

Someone
Or rather myself
Please show me
Show her
The way
What to do
Everyday
Sometimes my life feels meaningless and empty. .
Lawrence Hall Nov 20
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                         I’m Gonna Tell Santa Claus on You!

                                            Nora and Theo

The children scamper across my grassy lawn
And bring me wiggly worms to identify
Big acorns to admire, lemons fallen weeks before
Sticks and leaves, pinecones, flowers, and bits of bark

They lose their shoes and socks beneath the oak
They drink from the water hose and don’t turn it off
They chase the dog and the dog chases them
They shriek out joyfully because they can

I growl that if I mow another bit of brick
I’m gonna tell ol’ Santa Claus on them

They laugh at me, and bring me another worm
Please know that I am on the ViaSat / Verizon / Directv / Netgear axis of frequent lack of service. I never ignore correspondence, but in the mornings my InterGossip works very slowly at best and the evenings even more slowly and increasingly not at all. Responding to you may take some time.
Gerry Sykes Nov 17
A dead baby
  is a baby that's died
      in anyone's language.
Not surprisingly I am thinking of the terrible things happening in Israel and Gaza. I'm also speaking from the experience of loosing a son.
Wordsu Nov 12
Everyday I look in the mirror and see your face.
SHAME, SHAME, SHAME!
That is all I can see,
All I can hear,
FEEL!
Throughout the night I cry wondering why,
As I wait for sun to rise, I do as you please,
Pretend to be at ease.
But why? Why do I have to follow what you want?
Why is it always my fault?
Why am I always to blame?
For your mistakes, your hate, YOUR PAIN?
How is it a child’s fault that your life is not a certain way?
When will you take blame?
For the bruises, the heartache, THE SHAME!
The shame that I must keep each day.
Why should I, the child,  
Feel shame because of your mistakes?
While you run around the world,
Free of blame.
Pardoned by those around because our pain is “not” the same,
When will you pay?
For the trust you betrayed,
For childhood YOU turned into pain.
One day the shame will be on you,
And the child you failed will be free of your chain.
I wrote this for a speech I had to give on how detrimental child abuse is the abuser is the child's parent, the person they are supposed to trust and believe in.
Skylark 12 Nov 12
In sweat and blood they birthed the stones.
Their backs bent in a dimly lit choreography,  
they strained to hoist the ashlars into place.
Thirty-six years in a most sacred guild,
they each apprenticed the other.

Their aging bodies lust for sleep,
but it runs from them into the cold night.
Lying there, limbs entwined for warmth,
their calloused fingers touch scars,
which mark the years on their rounding frames.

They remember the works of their labors.
The six structures on which they’ve toiled.
Their six children raised with hope.
The six cathedrals in whom they pray,
both their memories and Christ will dwell.
Sara Barrett Nov 11
Growing up as a girl, I watched and learned,
The truths of boys and men often go unturned.
“Boys will be boys,” a phrase we all know,
Implying that girls must shoulder the load.
This notion suggests that girls mature fast,
Leading to women who pick up the cast—
An unspoken burden, a silent decree,
To bear the weight of their irresponsibility.
In a world steeped in misogyny’s grasp,
Women face judgment; their futures unclasped.
Absorbing the shame of the games that they play,
While men to walk away, free to go on their way.
Many men abandon homes they once called their own,
Now seen as free, yet their true selves unknown.
Disgrace drapes over women like a heavy yoke—
A weight of neglect that shatters their hope.
This yoke is forged from promises unkept,
From fathers who vanish while their children wept.
He escapes guilt with practiced ease,
Dodging duty like a ghost on the breeze,
Claiming children and a wife he never knew,
While society laughs at the pain he withdrew.
Leaving his children to carry his woes—
Their identities shaped by the hurt that he chose.
His children learn quickly to shoulder the shame;
They remember who was the burden of blame—
Like he who claimed love but was never there.
Those left to carry his name feel the strain,
Learning of unfairness that echoes their pain.
Abandoned women and children continue to grow—
A daunting endeavor men wish to overthrow.
Yet shadows may linger, and burdens remain;
They’ll carve out a future where hope will maintain.
For every struggle faced will lead to the dawn—
A testament to strength as they carry on.
The poem “Left To Carry His Name” delves into the profound burdens that women and children endure as a result of men’s irresponsibility. This poem critiques the societal norms that enable men to escape accountability while women are left to shoulder the emotional and social consequences of abandonment. Through vivid imagery, it conveys the shame and struggle experienced by those who are left behind, underscoring their resilience as they strive for a brighter future. As the second piece in a series focused on gender roles and family dynamics, this work invites readers to reflect on how we can confront and change these deeply ingrained societal expectations.
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