"papas" poems
A chaque fois que tu rentres de bonne heure,
Mon coeur se remplit de Bonheur.
Tu illumines nos soirées monotones,
Tu nous fais rire avec tes blagues, même si elles redondonnent.
Avec toi on ne s'ennuie jamais,
On parle, on crie, on s'échange des secrets.
Tu n'hésites pas à nous faire des câlins,
Même quand tu t'en vas de bon matin.
On n'aime pas te voir partir si ****
On préfère quand tu restes dans le coin.
La Russie, c'est comme le bout du monde,
Heureusement que tu n'es pas James Bond!
On aime te voir à la maison,
Avec tes pyjamas troués et ta barbe de bison.
Même pas peur quand tu vas chez le coiffeur,
On connaît ta tête de pomme par cœur!
On a beau se plaindre de ton penchant pour les sucreries,
Il faut avouer qu'un peu de graisse, c'est aussi confortable qu'un lit.
Même si tu trempes ton pain au fromage dans ton café,
Nous, on a même pas peur de t'embrasser.
On a toujours hâte que tu reviennes,
Même si ca ne fait pas une heure que tu es parti.
Ne t'inquiètes pas on restera les mêmes,
On sera toujours là pour te faire des guilis.
T'es le roi des bisous, t'es le roi des Papas,
On t'aimera toujours, même si tu manges du chocolat!
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 6:12 AM UTC
Walked through a field full of llamas
Wooly babies, papas, and mamas
But these llamas were purists
And spat on this tourist
Turning excitement to trauma
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 11:38 PM UTC
Mon papa, c'est le plus fort des papas.
Mon papa, c'est le plus beau des papas.
Mon papa, même quand il est fatigué, on dirait Richard Gere.
Mon papa, même si il est carnivore, moi, je l'aime quand même.
Mon papa, quand il mange, on dirait qu'il a 5 ans, mais moi, je l'aime quand même.
Mon papa, il a des voitures super cool qui font vroom.
Mon papa, quand il conduit, on dirait Michel Vaillant, même pas peur.
Mon papa, quand il me dit bonne nuit, j'ai même plus peur.
Les monstres sous mon lit, eux, ils se désintègrent avec la force des bisous de mon papa.
Mon papa, parfois, il ronfle et je l'aime quand même.
Mon papa, quand on est dans la piscine, il joue au crocrodile avec nous.
Mon papa, quand il porte des choses, les manches de sa chemise se déchire sous les muscles.
Mon papa, avec une barbe, on dirait un homme des caverne, c'est trop cool.
Mon papa, quand il fait des câlins, on disparait sous ses couches d'amour.
Mon papa, quand il nous emmène faire du shopping, il supporte des heures et il sourit.
Mon papa, il nous laisse faire des trucs qui lui font peur, mais il veut nous faire plaisir, alors il dit oui.
Mon papa, il m'a laissé faire du saut en parachute, et je suis même pas morte.
Mon papa, il râle parfois mais on sait qu'en fait, c'est parce qu'il nous aime.
Mon papa, même quand il voyage, il pense à nous.
Mon papa, il nous emmène en voyage avec des photos tout le temps quand il travail.
Mon papa, il nous emmène en voyage tout le temps quand il est en vacances.
Mon papa, il fait des trucs de papa trop génial.
Par exemple, il connait nos restaurants préférés, et il sait ce qui nous fait plaisir.
Alors il nous y emmène.
Mon papa, même quand il est en colère, il est beau.
Mon papa, quand il sourit il est comme Thor, le dieu du tonnerre, il est puissant.
Du coup, parfois, ma maman elle fait un nervous break down.
Parce que mon papa il est trop beau c'est même pas normal.
Mon papa, il a un double menton pour que si un jour Game Of Thrones arrive dans la vraie vie, on pourra pas lui trancher la gorge.
Mon papa, il fait du vélo plus vite que le Tour de France. La preuve, ca fait des années qu'ils sont en France, mon papa, lui, il est déjà à Dubai.
Mon papa, parfois il oublie notre anniversaire quand on lui demande au pif, mais il oublie jamais de le souhaiter, donc on lui pardonne.
Mon papa, il voyage en first class.
Mon papa, il connait les aéroports mieux que James Bond.
Mon papa, il regarde des series TV de jeunes.
Mon papa, il porte des costards.
Mon papa, il nous emmène manger des dans endroits incroyables.
Mon papa, il nous emmène dans des hôtels de luxe.
Mon papa, il devrait être président du monde.
Mon papa, il est mieux que les autres papa parce que c'est le mien.
Mon papa, il est irremplaçable.
Mon papa, si on m'en donnait un autre, j'en voudrais pas.
Mon papa, je veux que celui la.
Mon papa il est pas toujours là, mais c'est pas grave, parce qu'il est jamais ****
Mon papa, il traverse le monde mais après il nous raconte, alors c'est cool.
Mon papa, il fait une super vinaigrette. Dommage que j'aime pas la vinaigrette.
Mon papa, quand il fait un barbeque, ca fait beaucoup de fumée et pas beaucoup de feu, mais c'est pour mieux nous impressioner quand il fait rôtir la viande.
Mon papa, il parle Anglais.
Mon papa, c'est le meilleur papa du monde.
Mon papa, je l'aime, même si maintenant, il a presque un demi siècle.
Mon papa, c'est comme un druide.
Ca meurt jamais.
C'est trop cool.
Mon papa, c'est comme une mode indémodable, tu veux jamais le remplacer, il est toujours tendance.
Mon papa, on peut pas le comparer a une mode fashion, parce que c'est un humain.
Mon papa, c'est le meilleur humain que je connaisse.
Avec ma maman et ma soeur et mon chat, mais chuuuuut.
C'est un secret.
Mais ce que je préfère à propos de mon papa, c'est que dès que je le vois, je peux lui dire:
"mon papa, je l'aime."
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 12:08 PM UTC
Perderte es duro pero la idea de que alguien más disfrute las maravillas que posees es como un suicidio. No quiero que alguien más bese esa boca cuando no puedes parar de hablar porque algo te pone nervioso, no quiero que alguien más tenga que darte consejos sobre que diseño puedes hacer o que color ponerle. No quiero que alguien más sea el que este ahí para ti cuando más lo necesites, cuando sientas que el mundo se cae, cuando quieras cantar alguna canción rara de esas tuyas, cuando quieras cagarte en las papas, cuando quieras tener un encuentro glorioso & culminarlo con el orgasmo más rico, no quiero que sea otra persona la que este ahí. Así que por favor, no te enamores de alguien más.
Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 4:20 PM UTC
Even if
nightmares, cats, leaders, *** beauty, hugs, feelings, melodies, technology, communication, life, abandonment, longings, mornings, electronics, kingdoms, followers, humiliation, darlings, hyperventilation, depression, Alonedom, ghosts, trundles, Hell, gravity, tickling, hearts, unicorns, twins, education, lost ones, ink, medications, pavements, thoughts, souls, suicide, walls, hatred, alcohol, oceans, soles, music, misspellings, transportation, buses, guts, Heaven, time, attractions, ***** hands, blindness, organs, dreams, bodies, distances, understanding, currency, energy, love, spaghetti, contentment, happiness, tears, fire, people, oxygen, tongues, children, peace, death, papas, zombies, homicide, blood, kisses, drugs, families, caffeine, mamas, space, parchments, baked goods, economy.
didn't exist,
I would still wish you would
But you don't anymore
so nothing matters.
Apr 22, 2012
Apr 22, 2012 at 2:20 PM UTC
I don’t think I’m in denial anymore… but sometimes I guess I almost just forget. Like I’ll just randomly see or hear something that reminds me of you and then I remember a memory of us together— and then all of a sudden it’s like it hits me all over again and I realize I’ll never see you again… and it’s just such a gut wrenching thought. I wonder if I’ll remember the sound of your voice or how you used to light up when you laughed; that large, bowl full of jelly Santa laugh you had! I miss it more than I ever thought possible. It’s so strange to think you’re really just not here; not part of this world anymore. Forever is a very long time to not see someone or talk to them again… it’s a scary, vast amount of space and time that seems almost empty in your absence.
It almost doesn’t feel real sometimes, though the necklaces and box that have what is left of you physically, remind me otherwise. I wish you were here. I can’t remember the last time we had a proper conversation, or even just a visit. Covid really messed that up for us… I wish I could have gone to see you. I wish I could have spoken to you more. I hope you knew I loved you and that I always have and always will. You have left an ache in my heart that I don’t think will ever be fully healed. I know you didn’t mean to and you would hate for me to feel this way, but I just miss you and wish you could have stayed.
I hope you’re happy wherever you are out there. I hope it’s beautiful and free from any pain. I hope it’s everything you wished for and more. I hope you come visit and check in sometimes. I hope you know how much I miss you.
Love always,
Papas sunshine ☀️
Sep 2, 2021
Sep 2, 2021 at 10:47 PM UTC
A young lady sashays across the kitchen floor .. Displaying a stunning , red Ball gown , beaming , contrarily to an fro , eager for a compliment from a proud seamstress . A fidgety young boy , hand -me -down jacket with slacks being tailored , patches cut , hand sewn at worn out knees ..Darning Papas socks , repairing a tablecloth , custom curtains , flour sacks made into napkins , aprons , quilts and handkerchiefs . A wicker box that belonged to very gifted hands indeed
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 3:31 PM UTC
La calle
se llenó de tomates,
mediodía,
verano,
la luz
se parte
en dos
mitades
de tomate,
corre
por las calles
el jugo.
En diciembre
se desata
el tomate,
invade
las cocinas,
entra por los almuerzos,
se sienta
reposado
en los aparadores,
entre los vasos,
las mantequilleras,
los saleros azules.
Tiene
luz propia,
majestad benigna.
Debemos, por desgracia,
asesinarlo:
se hunde
el cuchillo
en su pulpa viviente,
es una roja
víscera,
un sol
fresco,
profundo,
inagotable,
llena las ensaladas
de Chile,
se casa alegremente
con la clara cebolla,
y para celebrarlo
se deja
caer
aceite,
hijo
esencial del olivo,
sobre sus hemisferios entreabiertos,
agrega
la pimienta
su fragancia,
la sal su magnetismo:
son las bodas
del día,
el perejil
levanta
banderines,
las papas
hierven vigorosamente,
el asado
golpea
con su aroma
en la puerta,
es hora!
vamos!
y sobre
la mesa, en la cintura
del verano,
el tomate,
astro de tierra,
estrella
repetida
y fecunda,
nos muestra
sus circunvoluciones,
sus canales,
la insigne plenitud
y la abundancia
sin hueso,
sin coraza,
sin escamas ni espinas,
nos entrega
el regalo
de su color fogoso
y la totalidad de su frescura.
1.9k
Existe una melancolía hermosa y dolorosa en la idea de lo que pudo ser y no fue, en esos hubieras sueños perdidos en el aire, dulce espacio de la imaginación de vidas alternativas y metas truncadas.
2020 No te voy a poder olvidar
llegaste a crear espacios en mi, vacíos que me hicieron ver mi oscuridad
llegaste a encerrarme en mi en mi mente, en mis demonios, me diste espejos de amor y espejos de dolor, me entregaste a los maestros correctos en los momentos indicados.
me recordaste que en el pasado existe la puerta de mi infancia, mi refugio un lugar en honor al buen trabajo de mis papas, mis hermanos, mi familia.
2020 llegaste a romperme como hace tiempo no me rompia la vida, llegaste a abrirme para derramar agradecimiento
2020 me enseñaste a soltar expectativas de un futuro, a fluir y ver cada día como una nueva aventura, a agradecer esta broma de la vida con respeto y con risas surfeando el sufrimiento.
este año llegó a enseñArme a tener amor propio y cuidarme, a conocer mis límites y reconocer mis demonios ponerles nombre sentarme a solas con ellos a tomar té, a veces vino, a veces whisky, A decir no me juzgo y no espero nada de ti, no me juzgues que esto es lo que ahi y me ha costado a:os todo lo que ves, todo lo que en mi he construido para mi no para ti ni para nadie que no llegue a este mundo a llenar las expectativas de nadie a quitar el ego y ser parte de algo más grande, a confiar en mí y el universo, sabes este 2020 es un aprendizaje de saber fluir.
A vomitar mis miedos, llorar mis traumas y pintar mis dolores. A ser un perfecto ser imperfecto, sin esperar más ni menos de mi ni de nadie, a tomar las cosas como son, y no como quisiera que fueran
este año aprendí la diferencia entre un amigo y un conocido, un abrazo a un saludo a distancia, una llamada, este a;o me enseñaste a no tener miedo a estar sola y en soledad gozar el vacío de mi ser, que si suelto mejores cosas llegan y si no llegan al menos me tengo a mi y eso de menos no tiene nada.
Este año aprendí que la paz mental, que el centro interior no se deja por nada ni por nadie, aprendi una leccion que no voy a olvidar, prefiero vivir en armonía sin estar despertando mis heridas y gozando aunque no todo este como “ debería de ser”
Aprendí a valorar la fragilidad de tocar la mano de un extra:o, toser en publico, compartir una cerveza, escuchar una multitud, ir a un concierto, besarme con extraños, hacer nuevos amigos, bailar en la multitud, ver a los ancianos sin miedo a enfermarnos
2020 has sido extrañamente uno de los años de más sanacion, quien diría que ocupaba una pandemia mundial para perderme y volverme a encontrar
Dec 6, 2020
Dec 6, 2020 at 9:35 AM UTC
Granny's out drinking
Papas already in bed
And where am I?
Sitting here, sober
Thinking of someone
Halfway around the world
That I just recently met
That ill never forget
Even if I wanted to
There he would sit
In the back of mind
Impossible not to find
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 9:19 PM UTC
On the way home after school Lucy 5 said.
"Guess what. There is a daughter father dance coming up for daughters and fathers (pause) and papas. "
"I can't dance. " said the papa.
"That is ok. Just follow me." Said the granddaughter.
I take her in my arms
Twirl around.
It won't be long and
there will be a time
when all I can twirl
Is the memories in my mind.
Until that time
All the aches and pains will not
Stop me.
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 9:16 PM UTC
Hie Yamaha Wegman ****** voyager, voted vonage valuable, unrepentant TIME Magazine subscriber. Spotify sportsman Snapchat smartly. Sleuth slenderman silences Shutterfly schvitzing. Saxby sassy Santander sais sage rues rudimentary router rotorooter.
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Quartermaster qualified quaint quaffing quadrilateral Pythons. Pyrex pylons put purdy purposeful puny punsters punching. Pumpkin pumice publicized prudential protean pros properly pronouncing prolific prodigies.
Proletariats professors' problematic. Pro privileges prioritized. Principle primates prevaricate. Preppy pregnant, praying prattler possibly Porgie. Poseidon pooping poodle ponders poppycock. Plum? Polite poison pods ply pitiful pinterest.
Pinhead Pillsbury pillager Pi. Pigskin pierce petsmart pests permanently. Perdition percolates peppered PennState pedigreed PearlJam Patagonian. Pastor pastes passion passably. Papas' paginated orbitz okayed. Nutty node needs money.
Next netzero nee naugahyde. Nattering nationwide nabob Moxie Molly McGee. Monosodium livingsocial joyus je kickstarter. Identityguard Huffington GMO. Gluten Glutamate footloose fancy free footlocker. Fingerhut fetishistic fabrication Cingular.
Feb 3, 2018
Feb 3, 2018 at 9:47 PM UTC
l'eau doucemment coule,
On est positif ou nule?
les fruits sont déjá cueillis,
Les souvenirs de bons amis.
Une bague d'or,
Des sacrifices d'un prisonnier fort,
Les raisins déjà mûrs,
Amour, mon amour.
Les feuilles des vignes qui tomberont,
L'automme doux comme la chanson,
Nous sommes des enfants du nord,
Chaqu'un á son sort.
Les hirondelles ne sont pas là...
Les enfants qui pleurent sans papas,
Les champs sont trés jaunes,
L'opera e son fantôme...
Victor Marques
1991
Dec 14, 2009
Dec 14, 2009 at 8:19 AM UTC
we were raised to be unsure
to be doubtful
and confused
and trustless
to wonder
but only because we
cannot assure
ourselves
we were told to be quiet,
sit silently, and do good
we were never asked
our opinion and we
never asked why
we were told:
we need to listen to our parents,
our teachers, our papas, mamas,
uncles, counselors, and bosses,
to the politicians and back-alley
preachers because they know it
all, they’ve been around the block
and seen the world, and they know
how it goes
we need to believe their advice
and do what they say because
god is always watching you
know
we were raised in a
universe devoid of
reason
we were left pursuing questions
without ever knowing there were
actually answers
we, the doubtful,
confused,
and trustless
how to do we know
anything?
too many,
I say,
look skyward for
their answer
only to miss,
a tiny whisper,
constantly
humming out of
their hearts
Dec 5, 2011
Dec 5, 2011 at 8:57 PM UTC
You’ve had fifty fantastic years,
Many were there but now not here.
And many are here
That were not there.
That’s how life unfurls over fifty years.
Let’s celebrate these decades
Of devotion to one another;
For around us we have familiar faces,
A family of sisters and brothers,
Aunts, Uncles, Fathers and Mothers;
Grandas, Nanas, Papas and Grams,
Daughters, sons, nieces and nephews,
Granddaughters and grandsons,
Cousins, in-laws, and step-laws too.
We are family.
A tribe that began with the original six,
Then Danny met Maura to add to the mix
With Colleen and Sean our clan's enhanced,
And since many more are heaven sent.
So let me end with a toast and a wish,
That we continue to multiply
Like the loaves and the fish.
Nov 9, 2019
Nov 9, 2019 at 7:15 PM UTC
My drunken whiskey-gin feet are trying to dig toe-knuckles into the wooden bed frame in my room. In my parents house I lay under Cranfield skies of bullfrog croaks. A heron cries.. Dad is gone, Mom asleep, sister aware but silent. This bed frame was Papas. He slept in if for over five decades in Franklin, Tennessee. So why won't my toes curl into the warm wood? They're sweating so why won't they dissolve into this oaken frame? Tomorrow I teach, give a groomsman's speech under the brazen idol of Birmingham, and miss menthol. 2 water bottles and five handfuls if goldfish, I pray and try to sleep.
Tetalasti.
Jun 14, 2013
Jun 14, 2013 at 1:49 AM UTC
Snort repticalc and mashed up altoid
Have fun with some friends in God’s portwine stained forehead wrinkle
Imaginary time and poison thumb I like
Natalie rips some Earth nuts from soil
Ripping out the toxins and crackin it open with your her teeth
Clapping laughing and crackin nuts and cookin crumbs in pressure cooker
Bad dreams in your frozen water bed
Damp in the ceiling drip and trickle onto papas
bald spots, plastic mickey mouse cup collecting
ceiling leakage
peanuts and marmite froze over lickin frost
***** wrist grunk trash youre rubbing frolicly on the placid table
I cant believe the glass aint clean
Looking not out a window
But a piece of glass reflecting the city behind me
And my band fall out of place
When the old man sneezes
I get pushed aside because the marching band needs me to move and
Im only so talented
dead Chihuahua smell coming from the basement
a parallel universe where there’s one extra atom
with lana del rey on repeat
and jesus was a comic book character too
knuckles breathing fight stance
contraposto counter position backwards and
upside down rubber band army march
a thin breathing kettle with 0 durability
and a plastic bent tight so it’s white, pink, spotted
palamino dress and champagne skin
the damp gets to me
again again again
fingerless gloves for fingerless tom
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 3:50 PM UTC
Chisporrotea
en el aceite
hirviendo
la alegría
del mundo:
las papas
fritas
entran
en la sartén
como nevadas
plumas
de cisne matutino
y salen
semidoradas por el crepitante
ámbar de las olivas.
El ajo
les añade
su terrenal fragancia,
la pimienta,
polen que atravesó los arrecifes,
y
vestidas
de nuevo
con traje de marfil, llenan el plato
con la repetición de su abundancia
y su sabrosa sencillez de tierra.
1.2k
the boys will pick up sticks
down by the river bank and bury
themselves in swampy soil and inch
thick ***** mags from before they were
twinkles or considerations and their fathers
ignore their quick wits and charms--let their
curiousity coil around the garden stakes till
it chokes the tomatoes and lays itself across the
blushing rhubarb that mama worked so hard to
cultivate.
Papas, why didn't you chop down those trees or
tame the stinging nettle, the roof is riddled with
bullet holes and the rifle in the attic is still warm
still vibrating on the shelf, buried in moss, in
wisteria dropping in and growing up the sides--
she can make a man more beautiful but still hide a broken a home
you had a chance to guide your sons
you had a chance.
Jul 21, 2016
Jul 21, 2016 at 5:36 PM UTC
I
expression for not in my culture
take it all slice of alternate
-universe
all height it all is all talks at last
II
it happened to the fuel what was
need to power it the apparatus I
-needed a
time machine if im ever going to
be anything other than this effing
nun I have to go back do something
take some action wrap again crepe
paper around the limbs nail christ to
the wall I want one of those when I
-come back
a hard body pantries full of fuel
have to go back and snort the hologram
ignore the urge to change my name to
-at the end of the world
III
-sinkholes
opened up next to a chrysler
wormhole to no-work-day to
a little late for the rodeo we
set an orange cone there its
raining underground where
- the circus
is an all year thing an
elephant jumps a pink horse
sings my mothers evil step
mother tells me not to wear
******* and tights at the
same time I think thats
nasty I tell about papas
-aliens
she says its his fault her
birth control failed now she
has to ask him for money
IV
the middle fuzzy like a
-peach colored
static bloom I believed you
were better and now I would pay to
waterfall over paint samples
-dissolute
stand solid in the end of the world
glasses full of muck fell off an
escalator got a scar in the shape
of a stiletto or maybe an asteroid
-they think of
a knife what cuts in the trim this
riddlin man this feral cat living
-life
on a soft backseat
oh and the driver
-being translucent
Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 1:31 PM UTC
My little baby boy
Aqui estoy nunca me voy
You fill my heart with joy
Santiago mi hijo ese soy yo
If you need it te lo doy
No tengas miedo papas
I'm always with you dadas
Te cargo en mi kora
A toda hora mi alma te adora
No te pongas triste
Solo felicidad me traiste
No temas ni llores
Everything's gonna be fine
Bottom line yo no me venso
Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 5:36 AM UTC
Just as the sun sneaks over the Andes, eyes open.
Tap tap, as the birds peck the windows.
Almost 8am... Yep, there he is, selling potatoes over a megaphone.
Papas papas, buenas papas.
Same questions every morning, and it never gets old or frustrating. It's genuine.
The gas stove turns on, eggs hit the pan, tea bags drop into cups of blue. Shirt full of oranges comes inside.
Time to go cobbing.
No one's waiting for anyone to start a conversation during the walk. It just happens. Frenchman with speakers in hands, Marley playing, old Latvian hands grasping trash bags, English folks with food bags, a Korean with just a smile, Ecuadorean leading the way. Step by step on the dry, dusty hills. This is our ritual.
This is our rise.
It's the rise of the dogs. The Stray Dogs of Collaqui.
Oct 11, 2013
Oct 11, 2013 at 12:27 AM UTC
What is this great fruit?
All of life's bounty, in this one root.
The apple of the earth;
From the dirt it doth birth.
Bake, roast, mash,
All else goes to the trash.
The potato's taste is so fine,
Its versatility? Just divine.
***** fries, tossed in pies,
Potatoes are the best, no compromise.
Oct 30, 2020
Oct 30, 2020 at 3:10 PM UTC
But “where are you going? Daddy.”
The words repeating under her breathe…
Mommy called.
Babysitters coming,
She’ll bring a pizza, and play a game.
Grandma. “why is she here.”
Whispers are exchanged outside, little ears don’t need to hear such
Business
Grandma. Leaves.
Mommy doesn’t come home till,
Later than usual.
With grandma.
We gather around the table.
Something is to be said.
…
“wheres daddy?’
Agenda:
Item #1: Padres Presence.
Guys… papas… gone.
Tears, like the murderous blow to a jugular, flows from my eyes.
It was merely those words that brought forth her reaction.
Not the actually death. How are you supposed to respond… to that? Those words?
She was only 15, adults can take it with dignity, but she just a babe.
Faces, they just saw, her.
They just, couldn’t, wouldn’t, didn’t know how to act.
Item #2: profanity.
The cause of a life to pass on,
“please, why couldn’t it have been sickness, car crash, ******
Just not that. Anything but
…please.
I awoke, in a tent, the fresh summer grass, its Wednesday.
Its also Wednesday, every drop of blood, only to cope with the hole in her childish heart
Endorphins they say: makes her heart beat.
…Now she hurts on the outside too.
Year later, as the heart beats, the pain is back, like an ol war wound.
The memories fade, the pain grows strong.
I hereby commit my life to saving those who struggle with depression, and helping the families of those who couldn’t get help.
I know how you feel, I love you.
Aug 14, 2011
Aug 14, 2011 at 10:24 PM UTC
One of me and my cousins
favorite places to play
Was behind Papas shop
I can still smell the saw dust
Repairs were made
That one could trust
Made from cinder blocks
Was a minnow pond
There is where Papa
Raised his own fishing bait
The wild blackberry field
Grew thorny on the other
Side of the gate
Best times of my youth
Spent on The Hill
Jumping off the pumphouse
Drawing in the sand
Playing chase with my cousins
While waiting for Grandma's
Sunday dinner,
Youth was so grand
Uncle Beaty's trailor was at the center Of the hill, where his sister's took turn Caring for him, where his wisdom
Was instilled
When I brought Uncle Beaty
His dinner I would stay
To listen to his prayers
He placed in my heart
God's truth deeply within
Protecting me from my future of sin
For the simpleness of life
The greats of my family
Have revealed to me
Is to spread the love of
Jesus, your heart will be
♡♡♡Set free♡♡♡
Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 12:48 PM UTC