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Jamesb Dec 2023
It's  quiet here now,
The house is at peace,
Doors locked and mostly
The occupants are sleeping,

I am sitting alone on the sofa
Listening as my son
Adjusts upon his airbed
A few feet away,

This may well be
The last time I am here
With both my children,
And that saddens me,

I have a mad mother
A dysfunctional dad,
(At least they are alive)
Yet it seems a lonely life
Is just around the corner,

Not it seems worth the love of
A good woman,
Except that's not true I AM,
Its just you struggle to see

That you do

In  fact

Love

Me
Steve Page Dec 2023
I'm in my grandchild's bedroom.
She's not here yet
so I get to sleep beneath
a floor to ceiling green forest
and within arms reach of shelves of fairytales
buttressed by well-read tigers,
ad I hear Sheer Khan ask me to choose
my character - the grandad I would aspire to be -
A bare necessities Baloo?
Or nearer to a prudent Bagheera?

So I ask myself,
what would Baloo do?
The nursery is just about finished, ready for grandchild #1 next month.
Zywa Dec 2023
The dear family

photo, with a golden edge --


of melancholy.
Poem "Foto" ("Photo", 1980, Herman de Coninck)

Collection "Em Brace"
Jeremy Betts Dec 2023
What you get is not always what you're gonna see
There's a me I choose to let no one see
If you see that me let me be the first to offer up an apology
That's my B side, that's the stranger I gave a ride and once inside it destroyed my family
And quickly
I find myself beyond a solitary sorry
The fix is never near as easy as you plea for it to be
Always aware that my grip on reality was secured by the same guy who's loosing it mentally, the workmanship is shotty
I do know the motions to take though and I go through them awkwardly
Robotically emote what I think is expected, a real time commentary
Going live is scary, that's just reality
I've rehearsed my lines so when I do I blend in seamlessly
Neither are an ability I use to be a mystery, well, not completely
I'd rather no one see behind the privacy shrubbery
It's private property but I never enforced it properly
Good 'ol hindsight, always 20/20
No control on this disorder, examples are aplenty, it'll eventually break free then consume what's left of me
No one believes when I say this is not me
Honestly, I don't put up much proof of the contrary
I do try, but these copy/paste repairs are undone too easily
Woe is me

©2023
Philip Lawrence Dec 2023
thoughts of tinsel and garland and stolen kisses under
mistletoe, of snow-covered walks, the prismed flakes
gathered garishly to glisten under the evening lamplight

of friends and family bearing cakes and drinks,
of hearty hugs and Santa hats, and toothy grins and silly
smiles of neighbors happily in their cups

the many pages since fallen from the calendar,
all shadows now, etched in their loveliest,
flawless in mind’s eye
Jellyfish Dec 2023
My family doesn't reach out to me,
All weight is on me to say hi.
If I talk too long, outbursts can occur
Contradictions leave me at a loss for words

They want a relationship with fiction,
An image; or story they see me as.
I used to try to fit the frame they made
But doing that lead me down a bitter path

Now I try to accept the reality,
Who I am inside is not enough for them.
When I'm myself, I recieve lots of judgment
Or comments that I don't understand.
I watched you turn young again
Lost in the supermarket
Searching for a place to be
Searching for my hand to hold

I watched my skin turn old and pale against the steering wheel
The way back home is long and
quiet and
all dirt road

Wise girl turned wiser
Wise girl turned free
Perhaps too gone to be my girl
Still, she returns to me
Shley Dec 2023
I hold my child against my chest,
The place he loves to sleep the best.

I feel the rhythm of his breathing,
A little moment with so much meaning.

Full of nourishment from my breast,
Satisfied and content to simply rest.

My arms surround him holding him snug,
Safe and secure inside my hug.

These moments limitless in their worth,
Little pieces of heaven here on earth.
Carlo C Gomez Dec 2023
~
She stands on the roof of the world, a ship in a bottle. She likes to wave at passing boats, inviting 120 volts to raise their sails.

Words unbosomed -- her attempt of blotting out the sun and those bloodletting habits.

Her eyelids say, "Only the disquieting muses have time for me." So she writes like an umbrella, shading reality; remembering pluck and luck stories about bumblebees, lovingly wrapped in Tiffany-blue ribbon and paper.

Father used to solve her every contemplation. Now indecisiveness in what she asks. Now indecisiveness in arbitrary tasks.

And she and her negative capability are the last two awake at a slumber party, giving commonplace words the allure of secrecy.

You see, she is only harmless when she sleeps.

~
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