Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Thomas Mackie May 19
Bitter, sour, barely sweet,
when I was in your tummy,
you craved that acidic fruit,
and even though we've since leaned towards
different suns and
it's still my favorite.

Your twisted seed,
what has become of me?

Growing up your love was a grapefruit.
Pulpy, complex cuts, precision with a tiny knife.
It left a sting on my lips,
but it fed me,
and it gave me vitamins and it was
This morning as I consume these two halves I think of us.

Duplicate cells, my pink flesh and thick skin and
biting taste, all from you.
Both of us hollowed out and squeezed until we have nothing left to give, but we're still
bright yellow on the outside.
A poem for my mom
Ann Terrin Feb 23
How fast the journey went for you
How could I have blinked so long
It was only a sigh, but then you were gone

Did I not love you enough
Was I too fat for your pride
For how dare I show pain, when you killed me inside

I don’t need you, you proclaim!
So go away now and don’t say goodbye, for I don’t know how

For no matter how much you gave, it could never be enough
I would take from you more, but at what cost
I can’t give of myself, because I am lost

How dare you cry!
But, I love you so much, it was my wish in the end that I gave you enough

Farewell my dear son, for I will never let go
Even when each day kills me ever so slow

I can never forget, even though I try
I’ve lost you forever, and I wish I knew why

I would offer my soul to bring you to light
But I don’t know how, when I have no more fight

I pray with each day you will never forget
That I will love you forever, past my dying last breath

I wish you find peace in the person you are
For even in this end, you’re still my bright, handsome star

So shine, thrive, become that person inside you,
And never forget, my sweet son, I am always beside you
Aishatu Sali Feb 20
Mannerless child!
Shameless child!
Arrogant child!
You lack home training.
Your parents must be bad.

Please don't fault my parents
I was raised well.

I was raised to greet my elders and address them with respect.
Just because I walked pass you at the mall, doesn't mean my parents are to be blamed,
If my parents found out I will be scolded.

I was raised to say "please" whenever I seek for a favour and to say "thank you" as a sign of appreciation,
Just because I didn't utter any,
Doesn't mean my parents lack gratitude,
If my parents found out, they will never gift me.

I was raised to wear decent clothings and be moral in my actions and behaviours,
Just because I wore a skimpy outfit,
Dosent mean my parents bought them,
If my parents found out, they will burn them to ashes.

I was raised to be humble and have patience,
Just because you saw me cursing and fighting on the street,
Doesn't mean my parent encourages it,
If my parents found out I will be grounded.

I was raised to be generous, to love and care without expectations,
Just because I'm indifferent,
Doesn't mean my parents are heartless,
If they found out they will be disappointed.

I was raised to study and be successful in life,
Just because I'm a school drop out,
Doesn't mean my parent never paid my fees,
If they found out they will be angry.

I was raised to always go to church or the mosques,
To visit relatives and friends,
Just because you saw me at the beer palour
Smoking and wasting myself,
Doesn't mean my parents ordained it,
If they found out, the next day might be my funeral.

So please don't fault my parent.
I was raised well.

Often times we blame parents for the immorality and unworthy behaviour of there ward/children but it is not always the fault of the parents. You can give birth to a child but not their attitude or behaviour, some children are influenced by peer pressure and society.
Simon Piesse Jan 20
Forty yards from Haribo Heaven,
They took flight,
Mocking the clouds of traffic:
Faster and faster,
Faster and looser,  
Faster and freer.

But then the Saxon ground
Came out in revolt,
Their covenant with gravity had been violated.

All sound was muted.

Heads struck at thirty-three yards;
Backs cracked the soil at thirty.
In his heart,
It was her finger that he felt,
Arching over the G string of her violin,
Like the neck of a flamingo.  

He mused:
After the sound came back,
Would she play a gigue or a dirge
To accompany
This ignominious moment?

When her sullied, muddied, mossy eyes looked away from him,
To her, had he become a lesser man?

Faster and faster
Faster and looser.

Had she now glimpsed a father’s struggle
To piece together what he thought he knew?
Inspired by a lockdown trip to Northala Fields
Tina M May 2020
Hello, eyes
You have burned before
Does the glimmer of your gaze know the deep?  

Hello quiet eyes
Reflecting pools of self
Wells of echo and ripple
You, I recognize

Hello tiny door of adoring
You will be my undoing

Welcome, you piercing
Jack R Fehlmann Nov 2020
Every way, each day
I am present to see it.
His miracle of being
I the recipient his gift
Awestruck, humbled, blessed
This I understand completely
Though I know not how, or why
I.  This man I still learn to know
As myself, of my self,
Admit having witness his growing
In great measure do I envy him
See his approach at living, being
embodying the kindest soul,
Naturally thoughtful and caring
How he is, has become
A lesson that I do learn from
My little legacy, so far beyond
better than from which he comes
I worry for him as fathers must
But not of him, of life's unexpected
always haunting every person
just out of foretelling, behind any horizon
For this treasure of my life I know
No doubt, to be a person of light
Wits, genuine smiles, listening and learning
His my Son, He is my Hero
I am out done, and yet,
ever the more thankful.
Blessed by You Zieven Lee.
Thank You.  More than you'll ever know.
Next page