crazy world
crazy world
Pain
I just can't think, I'm losing control, The pain that's inside, Cuts straight to my soul, Deep, dark and empty, Tired of living in sin, My mind starts to wonder. Where should I begin? Should I start as child, When my step-dad used to beat
''FORGOTTEN MEMORIES''
Written minutes after waking up, from hanging with past acquaintances.
Losing Control
I jsut can't think I'm losing control The pain that's inside Runs straight to my soul Deep, dark, and empty Tired of living in sin My mind starts to wonder Where do I begin When when my dad would beat me Or should I be 18
my boy
for my boy
Little Bird
This is a song about my early years in Catholic Ireland and how my adapted brother and I longed to escape that claustrophic athosphere.
God loves me
Just read it
Animazed
No means no right? Two of my favorite scenes Or Its just a thought, nothing unusual about the innuendoes in the cartoons. Nor do I really think it reflects anything any more then Archie Bunker. It is what it is just thought it would be fun to write about or maybe I just think too much
Pictures in a Box
Pictures I found in a box at home Frozen images of a boy and a time long gone Im flying a kite over a snow covered field Behind me my grandfathers barn rest on a hill Hi
Memories of the Toilet Rider
This is about all single Mothers in general: My Mother in particular
Her First Love
inspired today by watching a little girl look at her daddy....
Going Home
....going home.
Under wings (children's poem)
Co-oooo-CO soft the song of the morning dove gathering twigs in quiet grove to weave a nest where eggs will rest placing each in way that's best round and round each to wind tell a nicer home you could not find Co-oooo-Co soft the song o
A Childs Adventure children's poem
Racing down the stairs ready for the day's adventures in a hurry to get outside mother making me eat first I bolt my food as fast as possible then flee outside and down the road stopping at Bobby's on the way his mother telling us behave
1970.........elo's challenge
i have very fond memories of my sis and i ............she was the leader only because she was 3 years older and i was the back up ...ha ha
what are heroes
A frosty window pane childrens toys and games diamond smiles on icy xmas lights shine on the faces of a huddled carol group thay sing of peace and silent night A liitle boy that no one knew stud closely by and hung a line or two there voices
Cheerleader poem
My niece is a coal river miner and I wrote this for her. She taught it to all her friends. Goes to the tune I'm a little teapot
My Child
For my daughter.
Yoghurt face
To my beautiful daughter, life is about the small things,and the happiness she gets out of something simple, when I say you want a yoghurt,she run's into the kitchen like a shot.
Feels like yesterday
Years have passed, we may have moved away But the scars you left us are forever there to stay Years have passed, but I still remember it well My only safe place, called home Turned into a living hell Day after day I was scared to enter the home
Not Fair
A child.... separation of parents, the more I thought about it the more it evoked ire in me.... It just sort of jumped out at me... this one for the children and yet, so inadequate...
Sad.
Wrote 20 yrs ago for school.
How we have Forgotten....
Remembering school....
Tararara boem de ry
lullaby of two kids in the care of a abusive man after he beat the mother to death.
The soul of the moon
Have always felt the pull of the moon. Inspired by Johns poem
War though a teenagers eyes
I was 13 my dad was in the Rodesian war. I miss him
Childhood and adolescent days
The poem or some sort of a poem written in verse attempts to create a crude collage of what I was as a child.I was just living without any knowing the rules of the game called existence.I was living with and sharing my life with everyone ,yet I seldom felt that I was with with them for long.I never sought a future,it came to me unannounced and carried me far away to places which made me more vulnerable and more obstinate. I am withholding the factual elements from the poem,just in case it does not turn out to be an autobiography and get rejected from the poem section.On a piece of paper of paper I would revisit it and do some more craftsmanship on the lines before drafting it as the final work.I dont know whether there are options for editing these lines in future.My illness also contributes to this poem which is reflected in some of those subtle expressions.It could be a PTSD,OCD,Asperger syndrome,Depressive ilness or just a little,little of every one.
Your Choice
Stillness in the air quiet is all i hear. watching all around looking at the mystery in front of me waiting to see where they will go. Where life will take them. What road of life will he/she travel down. Will you be a football player,a la
Boyhood
He balances himself on that narrow limb as the creek rushes beneath his feet He's a warrior in this mighty jungle and who knows what foes he'll meet He steps lightly among the rocks and trees his slingshot ever to the ready With X-Ray vision
Infant's Own
What does the newborn baby feel? I wonder....
Alternate me(Alternate you)
What if?
Broken road
On a broken road direction is hard to find I crossed the line they drew for me Only to find afflicted missery Fallin behind Loosing my mind Trying to find my way Feeling diseased I fell on my knees and started to prey Send for an angel to wa
Over the hills and through the woods
Is it just me or have kids stopped playing outside. I still play my video games, Im just saying autonomy is a forgotten language and I think children are missing an important part of their life. I digress the bottom picture is a scene from the movie Stand By Me, the best example i could think of that reminded me of our adventures The first comment says maybe parents are to blame and yes I agree with that too, I believe any responsible parent would set restrictions , limits, play times, study times, and so forth
The Day of the Axe
If memory serves me correctly I must have been about four Left at home with grandmother To watch and keep me safe Being a child there’s something I said Can’t quite rightly remember what But she changed, demon possessed With an axe she came
Those Dixie Storms
Memories of my youth in the South...Dixieland.
Childhood dreams
When I think back on my childhood days, and the wild wonderful world set before me, I sometimes wonder why I had been lead into such a fools paradise.. Cotton candy, and roller coasters, yo-yo's and sling shots.. Really? Camping in a tent in m
Colorodo mist
every year when I was little I went to Colorodo for te summer with my family and that smell of the misty morning Just made my day
My Mind
I wrote this poem because I find my self thinking about the past. I keep wanting to go back and see what I missed. But I know I can't.
School days past
this was Inspired by a Irish lass thank you
Not Relating
As kids grow up they think they know everything.
Alone in the attic (childhood memory aged 5)
This poem reflects my plight at the age of 5, I was taken from my mother by my father to an unknown address miles from my family home after my mother was taken into hospital for being kicked in the stomach by my father when she was 8 months pregnant resulting in a miscarriage, then I was told my mother was dead (she wasn't) and lived with my father's new family and 6 children who bullied and abused me, after 11 months my father returned me to my grandma and I was taken into care finally returned to my mother when I was 7 years old.
Madonna Moon
In the still kiss of dawn Madonna moon murmurs goodbye to a favorite child. She fades from a place where birds, who once slipped through small hands, sing of freedom in a fair, gold sky. I stand on the edge of morning scattering my dream