"dinning" poems
Niacin formal chat night
She dont wanna hear about her grudges moving through the mud
In a crowded dinning hall
Shoves her platform sneakers between the path way
Locked ankles with the smite
You only ever bring in the neighbors dogs, if you only ever toss your cats in the trash
Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 9:13 PM UTC
5
a
e r
y s
since I joined hello
a larva with a torn soul
Clinging to Whatever's left of life
since I started scratching for light
Peeking at the deeming tunnel
but still hoping
since I started dinning with poets
eating haiku in the morning
drinking sonnet in the afternoon
feeling the aching agony of the broken in the evening
falling in love with the dreamers at night
Since my heart was pounded
wrecked and left with unspeakable pain
Since Born was birthed
a crawling character that was literally dying
but still screaming for hope, love and dream
Since Ismael Ibrahim aka Born
stopped existing
and started living
Jan 3, 2018
Jan 3, 2018 at 10:47 AM UTC
Mother superior had dropped the gun,
Seeing the victim was her very own son.
There a saint was made to run
Drowned before the rising sun.
Messiah born on the first day of June,
Posing as a religious boon.
Preaching that the end is soon,
All in a tone resembling Sinatra’s croon.
Superiority held in the form of prayer,
Faith maintained at the behest of a dare.
Professor Lodz has lost his bear.
The Omega deemed this loss as fair.
Tammuz is smoking all the vegetation
Asherah has stopped all gestation,
Coming from a fit of ************
Working on a new form of taxation.
Jesus just took one huge dumb,
In the sink after snorting a quick bump.
The man had reached quite the slump.
Catching HPV from Fergies’s ****
Mohammad is eating all the pork.
Using hands, forgetting the fork.
******* chicks, with all kinds of torque,
Misinterpreting the path of a wayward stork.
Dinning on delicious swine.
And the finest forms of delicate wine.
Prophets of the world align.
And drink from the deceased Christopher Reeve’s spine.
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 9:53 AM UTC
There's no replying
To the Wind's sighing,
Telling, foretelling,
Dying, undying,
Dwindling and swelling,
Complaining, droning,
Whistling and moaning,
Ever beginning,
Ending, repeating,
Hinting and dinning,
Lagging and fleeting--
We've no replying
Living or dying
To the Wind's sighing.
What are you telling,
Variable Wind-tone?
What would be teaching,
O sinking, swelling,
Desolate Wind-moan?
Ever for ever
Teaching and preaching,
Never, ah never
Making us wiser--
The earliest riser
Catches no meaning,
The last who hearkens
Garners no gleaning
Of wisdom's treasure,
While the world darkens:--
Living or dying,
In pain, in pleasure,
We've no replying
To wordless flying
Wind's sighing.
4.2k
My grandparent's house
ten-kid-large and sinking
on the corners of remembrance
Remodeled now, to
...tenements
Honeycomb
...the remnants
Irish immigrant and Scottish orphan's child
She sang on the ferry
He fell in love
"The rest is the history of us...."
Wide
as the Connecticut River, grieving--
in their sunset....
________________
This-- chair
is his
I am afraid of it-- of his learning
of the shiny badge pinned to his coat
of his dying...
Golden leather of it
soothes
his memory--
of another continent
of the once warmth-- of a distant hearth
so darkened now--
where his head once rested
...his hands
and,
I fear--
his mind....
I will not sit in it
as if he will come back, to take his place
I am afraid of him--
with his chair--
all worshipful and empty
like a high place, abandoned
to the heart attack
not for grandchild play
Seat of Authority
still stamped
beside the standing cold--
brass ashtray
Pipe smoke imagines itself
against the ceiling in the words
of Yates and Milton
He read to them
and somehow--
Paradise is Lost....
_______________
This house is cold now-- even in the summer-- cold
Worn as only large families wear
The War
of waiting shadows
--four brothers who were spared
Anna Mae, in charge, too young,
worries in abrupt dark
of dinning room
Her face, haunted--
an archway-- ever empty
by the large and ghostly table
covered by its web of lace--
a bridal veil
of Catholic impossibility...
Anna Mae, held hostage by her thoughts
of darling, Sean...
Aunt Lil's “breakdown”
with cigarette and thorazine
quaking quiet in her corner
Aunt Nell,
as blind as ******** hell
ironing, darning
with threads that thatch
the wounded socks
Holds it all together, scolding--
Brought the welcomed jelly donuts
sneered as Yankees clobbered Boston
all-- while drinking yellow ale
Uncle Eddie-- laughing hoarsely
cracks nuts over a wooden bowl
Sep 19, 2017
Sep 19, 2017 at 10:52 PM UTC
In a busy town
In massachusetts
there is this college
BCC
At this cozy college
there are 8 buildings
But one has capture my heart completly
G BUILDING
Walk through the sliding glass doors
Around the corner
through the lunch room
To the Dinning hall
Noise assult my ears
Beeping video games
shouts of triumph
Kpop and metal music
Tables littered with playing cards
Yugioh
Pokemon
Magic
People as different as can be
From all corners of the social spectrum
Popular
and geeks
Join together in a crazy dance
A swirling brightly colored tango
Joined together
by mutal intrest
Riker, dear Riker
puple fadora ever present
My "Co-Pimp"
a founding father of the trolling company
Damien, Oh damien
Your strangness growing stranger
Your hair of deception
Another founding father
Jose, Dear Lord Jose
You're pervertenss proceeds you
Cat calling
Video gaming
Holly, sweet Holly
Looking innocent and sweet
Masking your wildness
underneath
Nathan, My Naten
My best friend through the ages
Opinions flying
Jungle juice by your side
Casey, My sweet sweet Casey
Ghost story devourer
Trusting you with my secrets
Everyone's little sister
John, John of the lake
Annoying as hell
but loveble all the same
only kind things to say
Josh, Or should I say Shoji
Big Brother
Laptop out
Video game in
Matt, My lovely Matt
This is where we met
Fate intervined
brought us together
This is where I belong
This island of misfits
This G building gang
This is my home.
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 1:11 PM UTC
These streets they
light into us like
waffle cone whipped suns
reeking permanent
reprehensible dawn of
afternoon trade -
carnivore carton carts
brimming blue rolling red
their way down the
coarse grain streets.
Their wheels brown wood
sandpaper rubbed
brown smoke
elbows smooth prattling
bells bellowing for
ice cream dark cookies
ice cream and cream
ice cream quite rocky,
we are
a road rising mellow and marsh
dreaming mallow yellow lazy
Sunday evenings.
Street lamps dinning bright white
cloth white ringing
church bells gold
smooth bells pure
sugar,
not cloying nor uneven
pouring down
levelled pavement catching
its taste but forgetting its
waffle cone
crumbling -
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 11:40 PM UTC
I see you crystal clear,
A lover’s lust away…
For I dine with darkness,
Bidding you as your seer…
You shouldn’t have met me,
Playing with my dear blood…
All it takes is one spell,
Rising hell from the mud…
Fixed suns will bring famine,
All your love with starve out...
Begging God for mercy,
You will receive Mammon…
What love you have is lost,
Only for demons crossed…
Feb 25, 2022
Feb 25, 2022 at 9:32 PM UTC
It was not when temptation came,
Swiftly and blastingly as flame,
And seared me white with burning scars;
When I stood up for age-long wars
And held the very Fiend at grips;
When all my mutinous body rose
To range itself beside my foes,
And, like a greyhound in the slips,
The Beast that dwells within me roared,
Lunging and straining at his cord. . . .
For all the blusterings of Hell,
It was not then I slipped and fell;
For all the storm, for all the hate,
I kept my soul inviolate!
But when the fight was fought and won,
And there was Peace as still as Death
On everything beneath the sun.
Just as I started to draw breath,
And yawn, and stretch, and pat myself,
-- The grass began to whisper things --
And every tree became an elf,
That grinned and chuckled counsellings:
Birds, beasts, one thing alone they said,
Beating and dinning at my head.
I could not fly. I could not shun it.
Slimily twisting, slow and blind,
It crept and crept into my mind.
Whispered and shouted, sneered and laughed,
Screamed out until my brain was daft. . . .
One snaky word, "What if you'd done it?"
And I began to think . . .
Ah, well,
What matter how I slipped and fell?
Or you, you gutter-searcher say!
Tell where you found me yesterday!
2k
I used to make this exotic Indian dish.
It combined so many spices—like cardamom,
coriander, and a hard
pulpy substance called tamarind that I
soaked in hot water and used only the juice.
It was a giant Middle Eastern stew.
It was half science and half art.
It was math at its best,
generally, I despise math.
It smelled so foreign and exotic,
it contrasted with the wife and 2.3
kids placed neatly around the dinning room
table, waiting on
the finishing touches,
sprigs of fresh
cilantro tossed atop each bowl.
An Indian bread called naan was dipped
in the stew—it was wonderful, amazing.
The wine—smiles—laughter,
I can still smell it and taste it.
And now,
on lonely winter nights,
my take-out tandoori chicken
smells like a T.V dinner.
Feb 17, 2021
Feb 17, 2021 at 2:41 PM UTC
for a woman's day flowering bouquets
are selled and bought frequently
for a woman's day many innocent flowers
are picked up to cherish a genuine smile on your beloved's lips curving
as she wraps her gentle arms around your shoulders
kissing you - you - attentionate - gentle man
how she loves you !
how you - her man - are deserving all her womanly love
to see a celebration of joy upon her lovely figure curving -
to see your woman exuberantly happy jumping
in the dinning room
eternally humbled and in love with you
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 11:54 AM UTC
Took a trip on the Belafonte,
Bound with Cuba to forgotten Sanz.
Dinning on tin canned Del Monte,
A glass of Suntory always in hands.
Lloyd Faversham gifted salacious devices by John Cleese.
Used as props in Mike’s next gin stained showpiece.
The drum-line seemed irksome to J. Jonah.
He’d heard Zach Hill before.
Given limited time, despite the persona.
Interstellar fault found in a **** metaphor.
A swift change to an even more marketable sound.
Sparks didn’t fly when trying to appear profound.
Tiny teen dreams tending to tiny skirts.
Fidgeting with the hem-line.
Their just unintelligible flirts.
Stripping to avoid the breadline.
Dystopian fiction led to dissolution of fact
Can’t seem to see their world isn’t intact.
Atwood to Collins, Collins to a stupid ******* maze.
Alternate choice being a criminal thrill.
Simplistic fantasy whose only benefit is praise.
Popular opinion seems to be well over the hill.
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 5:52 PM UTC
I counted the clock
as I watched the small hand slowly tick by
I stared off into space
as I watched the weather change from sunny to Grey-
blurring my vision as my mind drifted away...
Something in the air told me to be still- listen & wait
but if I'd of known on this day
you'd do the unthinkable so intangibly-
I well I don't know what I'd of done....
I haven't eaten since you left
I hardly slept since I found you gone...
Hard to think as I sit at my dinning table
watching out my bay window as children laugh & play.
I heard a dog bark and watched a girl playing with her hula-hoop
I sit as tears run down my face thinking are you eating are you safe?
Why now would you think to leave
when everything you wanted
is right in front of you?
Is that person you ran to worth
the pain your causing me?
What can you be thinking ?
As I sit hear with my elbows on this table,
head bent low & my hands in my hair.
I hear a knock & my heart skips a beat, butterflies flutter in the pit of my stomach...
That lil girl with her hula-hoop tapped my window and smiles (I thought it was you)
I smile right back but all I see is you- in my mind
I see you with your tiny hands, your wrapped in blankets,
leaves of many colors fall down from above as we sat in Elizabeth Park
me reading Winnie The Pooh to you.
You at about 2- running with your very first kite
saying looky momma look "it fly'ing"...
As you ran you tripped stubbled & fell sadly your kite flew away...
I chases it but I couldn't reach it in time....
You look up with tears & it breaks my heart I didn't catch your kite
so I cry too and you say to me momma it OK.
I see in my mind you at 4 laughing with your sister - you both hold hand
twirling round & round in circles until you fall down giggling all the while.
I wonder where is that smile of yours now?
Where's the laughter & feelings you had way back then?
My tears are overflow- spilling on this dinning table...
I look up and watch
the tiny red hand on the clock tick, tick, tick on by,
it's the only sound in my house.
Your sisters outside playing with their friends
as I sit watching out the window& all I see is the many blended
children whom now look all
like you- running, laughing, playing...
Being free to be them selves & all I can do is long to have you home for once.
No picture is gonna help
because you've left me watching, waiting once more,
I been here all this time doing what I seem to continuously do which is
Watch As Time Flys By!
Always Me Ayeshah
May 24, 2010
May 24, 2010 at 9:55 AM UTC
*He used to paint my nails.
He'd paint em
pinks reds and orange
he'd paint them blue
sometimes too
mostly black.
He'd make tiny daisy
flowers all around.
He used to put lipstick
on me
he'd trace my out lip line
he'd use
black or brown liner
making them fuller
he'd tell me
they need to look fuller.
He use to dress me up
he'd get fishnet thigh highs
he'd have me step into
a mini dress
made of synthetic leather
zebra prints all around.
He'd follow with
a black tight
leather half shirt
gloves long and white
always would follow.
He use to do my hair
he'd comb front to back
for 45mins
it'd shine and glow
falling off my shoulders
cascading down my back
it almost touched my ****
He used to put me in heels
he'd picked always the reds
I didn't like these red heels
I stood almost to his chest.
He used to tell me
to dance.
He'd say move my
hips like this
in a circular motion.
He'd say stand
in the middle
on the dinning
room table
dance for me
he'd say
dance
for poppop.
He use to touch me
when I danced
He used to
touch himself too
I cried.
He'd become meaner
He'd say don't
make me punish you
I felt punished already.
He'd get undress
I'd cry louder
begging him not to.
He's slapped
my face
I always fell
I'd stand up
fast or he'd
hit me again.
He'd lay me on the table
keeping me trapped
in the middle
he'd fill me every night
I'd cry
He'd laugh.
***He use to paint my nails.
(until my birth father shot him)*
*Always Me Ayeshah ®
Copyright ©
Ayeshah
K.C.L.N 1977 - Present YEAR(s)
All right reserved ®***
May 13, 2012
May 13, 2012 at 1:07 AM UTC
The crape myrtle in front of his parents house
together with several strains of palmatum acer
whose twigs had been broken by his childhood-favorite ball
still somehow grew up with him
The swing carried his tender laughter
lifted by the white oak once bearded his tiny footprints
Will they remember him
The toy car he had used as a skateboard
sitting in a dust-covered corner of the attic
accompanied by a broken water gun
carrying his innocent dreams
The afternoon sunlight covering the empty dinning table
as gentle as it was on his face dozens of snowfalls ago
Will they remember him
The basketball used to hop around him
witnessed numerous of his rejoicing moments
now being wiped as new, inflated every once a while
sitting on the bookshelf
aside the medals and badges
internally telling the stories of honor and courage
in a voice we may never hear with our ears
Will they remember him
The swallows making nest under the eaves
of his old apartment
whose injured ancestor years ago had been carefully held in his hands
cured, fed, and set free
The quiet hybrid dog who has met many generations of this swallow family
after being rescued by him from a trash can
Will they remember him
The scarf he had worn for many winters
now tightly hugging the neck of this shepherd boy
The compass he received as twelfth birthday gift
now treasured in an orphan's pocket
guarding every gunfire-lightened, terrified night
Will they remember him
The helmet and bulletproof vest
on which painted camouflage has been worn and fading
tasted his sweat in many places of the world
The dogtag polished by his burly chest
The cloudless sky reflected from his wide-opened eyes
The sands and stones
witnessed thousands of years of human self-redemption
now lying under him
dyed by the dark scarlet bursting out from his motionless body
They will remember him.
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 12:30 PM UTC
I still have more to give
cried
the rotting leftovers
in the back of the fridge
Desperate to be
used
ripped
snagged
just take me off
this crusting tomb
I
want
to
feel
what it is like to be
reheated
just zap me
:45
ill be tender
ill be good
enough to eat
alive
and the last streams of red can trickle onto
your paper towel
all the mess
****** away
by the quicker picker upper
slip slip slipping
on this plastic plate
because you dropped all your fine china
you broke all the glass
you cracked all your chances
for divine dinning
I can watch your eyes roll around
from the inside of my lightening storm
a game of Yahtzee- snake eyes 4 times in a row
scanning everything
forgetting everything
are you feeling lucky?
:10
almost almost
almost
drip drip dripping
is the drool from your mouth
you forgot how good I can be
use the knife and cut away the bad parts and ill be
the prettiest picture
you've ever seen
i'll taste just like I look------ a piece of rotting meat with the corners cut off and the juices all dried with a warm reminder of hot all dumped onto a plastic plate.
delicious
Feb 24, 2012
Feb 24, 2012 at 12:57 AM UTC
It’s what we do.
Kisses are the flowers of love in bloom.
Count on joy,
The sun will shine again.
I remember the smell of her apartment, burned popcorn and a new teal green leather sofa.
An awesome smile of achievement is what she wore.
American Express and Visa’s credit card applications are fanned out over the dinning room table.
Jodeci plays in the background, as we slow dance, nice and close.
We laughed on how high I jumped when her grandfather walked in on us being naughty.
Laughter is the air of the soul.
I move in closer to seal my fate.
Phone rings.
How soon we forget, that we’re all shadows on the wall of time.
It’s very clear I got to make that move.
I motion that I am leaving.
She blocks my exit, in an attempt to make me feel her touch.
Lost in love,
The lover wins every time.
Entre vous et moi
I promise her that I would return.
We both know it’s a lie.
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 12:36 PM UTC
I've been rolling,
getting lonely, without trees here to hold me
stars have now exploded a million times, but is it only in my mind
it's only been a moment, I wish I could hold it
but I know time is on my side
Am I even outside
I think I'm walking on the s
k
y
/ I'm feeling pretty HiGh,
I must be dinning on the stars tonight
I see the paper planes go by, they stop to say **"h
i"**
I have some trees by my side.
Galaxy's are in my cup,
I'll be swimming here sippin' up,
is it alright if I stay here tonight? I know I AM ON A FLIGHT
I'm here to dance with the moon,
I
won't
be
coming
down
anytime
soon.
Jun 21, 2014
Jun 21, 2014 at 6:15 AM UTC
We sat around the 4 story complex, sipping tea and rolling joints. The wind was cold but it couldn't compete with the warmth that filled our hearts and souls. I enjoyed our quiet exchange it was pure and simple beauty. The understanding of our greater expectations of each other was silent but well soaked in the cold dew that dripped moisture down our noses.
It was almost to special to ask for a word, or even a breath of air. Our eyes glazed and occupied by the spiraling dance of human silence, never before have we reached such a plateau of understanding.
A warm suddle voice sang through the silence like the masterful playing of a melancholic violinist.
Following the words a warmed faced women appeared in the window
"dinners ready" she proclaimed, we stood and readied ourselves still caught in the moment of the dance that is human silence.
We rushed ready and eager through the huge blood red mahogany doors, the smell of middle eastern spice exploded and seduced our nostrils. We climbed to apartment 5c, a young gentlemen of 25 greeted us. "Dear Monsieur's et mademoiselles dinner is served" He announced awhile taking our tea's and warm fur jackets.
The room was lovely and very inviting, the smell of warm sandalwood incense embraced our cold noses with a warm sensual hug. Our eyes were calmed by a deep warm orange lighting and soft candle flickers throughout the dinning area, next to the table was the warm faced women. Smiling as if we were her very own children.
"Sit my beauties" she softly spoke to us, her voice was like a soft childhood lullaby holding and securing any of our insecurities.
Nov 28, 2013
Nov 28, 2013 at 11:23 PM UTC
Perched up for what could have been a century
A living statue, innate onlooker, weathered survivor
Now dying and giving in to the gentle pull of Earth
Bathing in broken sunlight, we ate dinner,
looking on through the kitchen window
Watched you transform and grow downward
Watched you lose limb, then limb again
Looking out the dinning room window every night
In the wind, we watched it sway as it hung from you
Like an aging man, a creased face and graying hair
I stood at dusk, in the pasture
I admired your bending stance against the backdrop of a descending sun
It too shall have the same fate
And so shall I
Jul 31, 2011
Jul 31, 2011 at 6:41 PM UTC
Hannah and Benedict
sat on the floor
of her bedroom
playing chess
outside it was raining
hitting against
the windows
your move
Hannah said
Benedict moved
his pawn forward
Hannah's mother(Mrs Scot)
walked along the passage
by the open door
whit ur ye daein?
playing chess
Hannah said
wa haur?
Mrs Scot asked
where else?
Hannah replied
in th' dinnin room
Mrs Scot said
what's up?
Benedict asked
she wants us to play
in the dinning room
Hannah said
oan th' table
nae th' fluir
Mrs Scot said firmly
awe rite Maw
Hannah said
so Hannah picked up
the chessboard carefully
and carried it into
the dinning room
balancing the board
so that the pieces
were where they were
Benedict followed behind
hands in the pockets
of his jeans
Mrs Scot eyeing him
with beady eyes
her hair covered
in a tartan headscarf
Hannah set the board
on the table
and Benedict and she
sat at the table
to resume their game
Mrs Scot walked off
muttering to herself
whose move?
Benedict asked
mine now
Hannah said
why couldn't we play
on the floor of your room?
he asked
God knows
Hannah replied
as she moved her bishop
along the black squares
your king's in trouble
Hannah said
Benedict looked
at the board
and moved his
pawn forward to block
and protect his king
Mrs Scot appeared
in the doorway
staring at them
hoo lang ur ye
gonnae be?
she asked
not long the way
Benedict's playing why?
Hannah said
it has stopped rainin'
sae ye can gang it
Mrs Scot said
Benedict gazed at Hannah
then at Mrs Scot
ok won't be long
Hannah said
Mrs Scot went off
and Hannah moved her bishop
and said
checkmate
Benedict looked
at the board and saw
that he was
so there you are
he said
so do we have
to go now?
Hannah nodded her head
yes it's best
so she packed up
the pieces
and the game board
and took them to her room
Benedict followed
watching her as she
put the game away
then they walked
to the door and went out
into the morning air
with Mrs Scot at the door
giving them
the dark stare.
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 3:50 AM UTC
The triazolam is draining out.
Seeping down a peptic route.
Antacids disintegrate the lining.
Pain leaves me pinning.
Drowning on pink.
Spat up in the sink.
This sickness is wearing me thin.
Unsafe in my own skin.
Prescribed relief in the form of cold sweats.
Unapproved medicine tested on pets.
The rainbow pillbox comes in a set.
Getting wealthy off of the net.
Anemic royalty.
Sipping on Pennyroyal Tea.
Taking a drive to San Andres.
Dinning on mixed sangrias.
Bummed for a hit.
Blown…spit.
Complexion grows yellow.
The cost of my mellow.
Prescribed relief in a hospital bed.
Deaf to kind words said.
Can’t escape the notion in my head.
Telling me I’m already dead.
Loss of focus.
These drugs are bogus.
Light gradually fades away.
Soiled underwear, the thing to stay.
Soul ripped and torn apart.
Taken away on a crash cart.
Transfusion first, dialysis later.
Lack of a pulse, huge deflator.
Prescribed relief in the form of cremation.
Ceremony held, not a single relation.
No will left as a last proclamation.
Assets absorbed by a forfeiture corporation.
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 10:01 AM UTC
I can't help but notice, your gold and silver teeth. When you walked by, in you sandals, I noticed rings upon you feet.
I see the shinny chains; you wear around your neck. I know this must have cost a lot, maybe your entire paycheck.
I noticed you placed your fingers, upon the dinning table. You forgot to remove the tags, because I could still read each label.
Your head is decorated, with jewelry from ear to ear. You're wearing enough "Bling," to get rid of darkness, for the rest of the year.
By, Sandra Juanita Nailing
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 2:04 AM UTC
What happened, what became,
As I walked through
Footsteps of ash
On a polyester floor,
The door opens
Footprints,
Disappear,
Invisible,
As had never been there,
I'm perplexed as my fingers
Feel like spider silk entangled
But nothing is visible,
I ascend the stairs
My hands guild me,
Rooms bear
Naked
Stripped
Exposed
Floor boards, walls different
"What happened"
I was only but gone a day,
Temper flares,
I awaken in the dinning room
Dust unsettled,
As if from a height I fell,
I manage to steady myself
Disorientated,
Confused,
Questioning
What is happening,
I gaze at the stairs
Palm prints saturate
The walls,
Ash fading imprints
Evaporate,
Erode,
Dissipate
And gone as before,
I look upon a mirror
I see the house as before,
Warmth radiates
I turn but boards greet my gaze
"I scream"
And the mirror cracks
But only silence was heard,
Then I realise I am but a
Memory in the
Halls,
Rooms,
Floor,
I see my self fade
A last memory of a house
That like everything
Had its place,
And like the footprints,
Hands upon a wall,
I fade away,
The last memory of house
That crumbles around me.
"They say memories last forever"
But never again will there be any in these halls.
Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 10:30 AM UTC
Family is like a circle with an interminable connection
Family is a blessed gift from God
I don't know how it started
Neither do I know when it began
God created families to teach the world what it means to love,cherish,honor and obey
Family were bonded by the power of love
Mum would cook dinner
Dad always come home at 6pm
We will always wait 4 dad to arrive
We never can do without dads sweet words of prayers before eating
We would never eat in front of TV
Nor phone on the dinning
We all surround the table
Forming a circle of love at the dinning
Sister right of me
Brothers left of me
Dad and mum face us both
Looking at each other with a beautiful smile of unspeakable joy
We talked and joke as we ate
Oh!! What a brotherly and sisters love
We always got each others back
We love each other
When it comes to defending our self
We defend each to death
In times of crises and hardship are times for the family to stay close together, help ea
ch other out and endure what are sometimes the frigid winds of change
May 4, 2013
May 4, 2013 at 9:03 PM UTC