family tree treasure hunt—
come to your census
12/9/2019 - Poetry form: Senryu - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2019
One pure dust just
asked to see
The Family tree
But first of all
Lets have some little
Drops of beer
Now here we go
You can listen to me, dear
Open your eyes, to see Its history
Which is somehow called to be the mistery
Colors you see? Well these are just dates
Dates of some birthdays and
Dates of some Deaths
Some become stars
Some other worms
Well, this seems so perfect
This harmony of dumbs
One day I turned around
I looked away
For a second
To reach for Mother’s hand
I heard a sound
And turned back ‘round
In a flash
There I saw
Where stood before
Our family tree
Mother as roots;
I as the stem
And now; fruits
In a second
My youth forgotten
And maternal thoughts
My mind did fill
How so fast
Did this day come?
Once the stem
Now the roots
A simple poem describing how quickly life changes and our roles can go from that of a child (the fruit) to that of a parent (the roots).
Do you stare out the window
at passing crows.
As they fly north,
Taking your dreams with them.
Do you stare at old pictures, reminiscing.
Wondering where your hopes went.
They became congualated in picture frames.
Do you drown yourself in alcohol and dig your own grave.
You're a hardworking man
And your elixir is home.
Just let go of the drunken hate.
Do you stay at home and let the years leaf you by.
You have a life to live, you had love to spread, and give.
We became leafs blowing in the wind
With no direction.
It's sad to say,
comforts become our family tradition. Conformity slowly killed our pride and foundation.
A tree with broken branches,
Slowly fading as it touches
The hearts of it’s neighbors,
It’s fruits were crying out their flavors,
Carpenters did not see any use for it,
Beautiful colors of the leaves ceased to exist,
Branches couldn’t come together
Because of the tensions amongst each other,
As everyone was passing whispers
The wind had brought the last shivers
To the last branches that were remaining,
While the tree died there standing.
Ussah Kabelo Isaac Mothibi
we think my great uncle eddie
was on the assembly line that built the atomic bomb.
my aunt mildred said he could never tell her
exactly where he was or what he was doing,
far away in the desert
back when he had to take trains to visit
back when manhattan was just place in new york,
he could only tell her that he loved her.
we still don’t know for certain,
there are some stories that are taken to the grave.
but i wonder, i wonder if my aunt ever looked at his hands
and thought of the destruction
that could be so carefully hidden in his palms,
explosions under his fingernails,
the shells of burnt out cities in his fortune teller's lines
when he touched her delicately,
brushed her hair behind her ear.
but she probably didn’t;
most people only question what they want to question.
everyone thinks of what their hands have built.
not everyone stops to think of what their hands may have destroyed
in the process.
Praying for the day where
It's ok to pull people apart from one another.
Hoping that they go out for the last time
and holding hands is out of the question.
We ask why the said their vows at the altar.
Did they have to?
Who was it who really wanted to?
White gown, flowers held by every girl, and ties and tuxedos on every man.
This won't be the only night we have this feeling.
The wedding ends and these two are a mess.
One is gone and devastated the other is gone and with another "mine".
Today, we spoke the truth after every raging phone call knowing there were tears as they were explaining another fight over everything.
The questions turned to much more realistic views.
The sugar coated topping has been melted and barely helped.
will they be ok?
Did we do the right thing by supporting them being together?
Why did we wait till now to realize it really
was never meant to be?
We're we right?
They were wrong.
Family gatherings are so different than what we adapted to when we were young.
Now there is extra food
for the new significant other.
Some are afraid to come knowing there will be a fight over everything.
Amiable as we needed to be.
Optimism was how we mended what we would see.
How we noticed as the use the time they are not looking to roll their eyes, complain to another member, or bury their head in their hands over what they did.
Feel not ashamed, but be honest with yourself.
This family supports and is there for all whether married or single, divorced or dating, gay or straight.
We have our tree.
It is short but staying strong and no broken heart or promise breaks the branch anyone has grown on.
We may have our separate ways but we will always have each other.
We know what happened.
Just climb back up on the tree,
because no mater what this is where you will always belong.
Sit on your branch. When you leave take some leaves and bark with you so you know we're always here for you.
We love you.
We are a loving family despite many things.
A tree was planted.
Your heart was the seed.
It created the deepest roots
And sprouted the tallest of leaves.
For many generations,
Sap running through its spine,
Resembled The Giving Tree,
A tradition was left behind.
You’re being more forgotten
As descendants ascend from branches.
Memories still grow in the back of my mind
When a pebble is what a picture catches.
Without you, we wouldn’t be here reuniting,
Playing this game called Life.
— The End —