Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
101

Will there really be a “Morning”?
Is there such a thing as “Day”?
Could I see it from the mountains
If I were as tall as they?

Has it feet like Water lilies?
Has it feathers like a Bird?
Is it brought from famous countries
Of which I have never heard?

Oh some Scholar! Oh some Sailor!
Oh some Wise Men from the skies!
Please to tell a little Pilgrim
Where the place called “Morning” lies!
I only tell you because you've never asked.
I only tell you because I don't think you seem to have the slightest idea of who I am.

Would you believe me if I did tell you?

The only clothes on my body were those of my 4 year old brothers.
The only shoes on my feet were so weathered and torn I could feel the cold concrete with every step I took.
The meals on my plate were only those from the school in which I begged for seconds and dreaded the empty weekend.

Would you believe me if I told you that the only food that filled our cabinets were expired cans given from the food bank.
Dinner time meant hiding under the table, avoiding the drunken blows of Mom's new boyfriend.

Would you even believe me?
Months would go by without water or lights.
Our home was no home.
But a shelter for those who had dragged their bodies to the bed of an 8 year old girl.
My mother was no mother at all but a slave to a chemical mixture.

Would you believe me if I told you?

I fought my fight.
Through blood and tears, I fought my fight.
I chose to stand in the crashing waves against me.
I chose to stand strong with the heaviest weight resting on my shoulders, I fought.
& I won.
The line
you are my valentine
has lost shine

but well
word is just label

i mean
deep within
like undying old wine
each of us has a valentine

dunno why.....
it refuses to die!
 Feb 2015 Tiffanie Noel Doro
K
Bashful Liar.
The world is evil,
You took the walls inside my heart the day you left.
Under my eyelids are your initials,
I wake up,
Only to think about you.
I used sharp glass to carve our date on my forearm,
I sent my veins the wrong message.
My good weaves all have doubt,
They vent on paper when I write forever,
my veins notice as I smoke.
My smile was light to your eyes,
as your eyes would light,
My eyes would tear with joy.
Catching that same guilty taste on my tongue.

I'm walking down the fishing pier at this moment,
I'll dip the jar I have been using to save the tears I shed for you,
I'm watching them go down into the water now,
Like my body going towards hell,
when it dies because of you.
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1078415/you-are-enough/

This is a response to the link above.
A magnificent poem leads to an engrossing one
HOME MADE VALENTINES DAY...

Back in the 1940's when I was young
Valentines Day was so special

Everything was homemade
from the Valentine box,
the Valentines,
and Valentine cookies.

As the room mother one year
my mom was asked to make a large
Valentine Box

I remember the doilies that we
colored in, we had ruffles,
glitter on little hearts,
everything was pink, white and red.

The big Valentine box was put on
the teachers desk
Then as each child came in
they deposited their Valentines
in the beautiful Valentine Box.

I can't remember seeing the teacher
remove the Valentines from the box
but somehow she did, and a couple
of us kids got to pass out the cards.

We took them home in a paper bag.

But first we opened them up....
Always excited to see if we got
a special one from someone special...

Did you get one from Jimmy,
or best friend Sue
Here's  one from the teacher
with a sucker too...

As the years passed by, and I became a mother
I helped my children make their own
small Valentine Box.
With Doilies, red hearts and
the most important part was glitter....
and they came home from school
filled with cards picked up at the
Valentine Store...

But
as years passed on
the Grandkids were more creative.
A Valentine Box
that looked like
a Lady Bug
each year they became more creative.

But
none as beautiful in my eyes
as the big large Valentine Box
my mom made.

HAPPY VALENTINES DAY...

by judy
She showed me her song,
Fresh voice like water to flower,
  .  .  .  My shut heart opened.
Next page