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We aren't done yet
This isn't even a poem.
Planejane2 Jun 16
I’ve been seeing hella signs
But I ain’t need to clear my mind
I don’t even wanna rhyme
For the first time in a long time I feel fine.
Tim Mansour Feb 26
Through pain and prayer I emerge 

**** breath for the first time 

and though I see not you, but a blur

I know you from the inside

hand held, I am walked with care 

over linoleum and playground 

and altar, to grow into myself, 

cheek wiped. And then you let go

as all mothers must. But never leaving, 

even when, ungrateful, my brittle ego 

takes me far from you, pretending I can 

find a space more sacred on my own

You gave me that dream.

And everything else—for you gave me life.

And although I must, trying to improve
on that is futile.
Written for Mum's 90th birthday

You always know my true heart, for it is yours and yours is mine.
Deb Jones Jan 4
This is my heartache
To bear witness, to listen
As one of my adult sons
Cries from a heartbreak
Only to me will they cry
As I make soothing noises
Deb Jones Dec 2018
If I had no other way, I’d walk, I’d crawl, I’d run.
And search to the very ends of the earth for you, my precious one…

I gave you life. Your heart beat because of me.
I played music to calm you and rocked you months before you were born

I wanted to teach the ways of the world. In words you understood. I thought it would be very hard to dim your brightness
I loved your spirit. I love it still.

Your spirit is stunted now. That haunts me. I created a perfect child and the world changed you.
I protected you as much as I could. But the world crept in. You grew up. I grew up too.
My child.
Nothing you could ever do would make me turn away from you
You are the home in my heart
The one I return to when my spirit needs solace
I know my boys think I am giddy and quirky
I actually enjoy the labels.
Purcy Flaherty Oct 2018
Blood brothers,
equal in blood,
fathered by the music of love.
Each is perfect,
different in style,
all born from an act of love.
My three sons are so different, yet so similar in many, many ways.
Each has half my blood and genetic imprint and in that they are all three equal and united.
I pray that my sons love each other allways.
Kylie Sep 2018
She loved him so dearly,
With every passing day,
She treated him with kindness,
Hoping he’d repay.

She gave him the wings to fly,
And the floor beneath his feet,
The strings of a cello,
An act she’d repeat.

Instead he killed dear mother,
Stabbing her aching heart,
Puncturing her lungs,
With the sharpest throbbing darts.

He raised his fists towards mother,
Decaying her with pain,
Blood dripped down dear mother,
Pouring down as rain.

She was silenced to the silence,
And the noise continued.
Aleyna D Sep 2018
A son of Adam born anew,
Arrives into a joyous hopeful stage,
Everything set in colors of blue,
Two becomes three on a brand new page,

A son of Adam as he grows,
Has certain traditions to uphold,
None of which he yet knows,
But soon everything will unfold,

A son of Adam as he gets older,
Must bring his molders glory and gold,
To be the brave unrelenting soldier,
To be a savior and above all bold,

Now when a daughter of Eve is born,
The molders have such different hopes,
The loss of a possible son they mourn,
Then soon they begin pulling her ropes,

A daughter of Eve for generations past,
Is a puppet to her family's whims and woes,
Not a rival to the son, she is an outcast,
Never allowed to be bold or oppose,

A daughter of Eve must become a mill,
And produce until she has procured a son,
That is her destiny to fulfill,
Otherwise, society will quietly shun,

A daughter of Eve can perhaps teach,
A son of Adam she has produced,
How not to become traditions leech,
And break the circle of abuse.
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