Family Values

This poem is not about silence. It is not lambs grazing in peace with slaughter in their heart; if they can afford the instinct of that. It is not about the quiet that is an afterdust of a just-delivered vengeance writhing in an amateur plot. This poem is not about the pause of a comatose Dad; it cannot be proxied by the sorry presence of...
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Despite this bitter life, I pray That you will never be astray Hope my love will guide through The adversities this world will give you Shadows of fear dishearten me I am not perfect but kindly see That I’ll be here for you always Adoring you in all my days It’s never easy to be without a father But son, realize – he’s...
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My youngest brother rendered an oft-reenacted chagrin that I had to suffer my friend’s father’s 78-rpm marches to wear his half boots to the dance. How could I carry that weight, he crossed his eyes under the mophead. Those stupid marches and shindigs won’t stop the end of the world. Like it saved Martin if he was King. I wondered if the...
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Abyss, the thing must have been culled from fright There was no merit clear about its sight The silence keen and unobtrusive slight As sacrifice to be not recognized There is a semblance of a laurel sheet By wraith-like vision framed luminescent Dickens would have with his muse been restless Pitch to poem to method in its madness His yin and yang...
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It must have been an abyss. There was nothing bright about its sight. The silence was keen and unobtrusive like a sacrifice that is cautious not to be perceived. There is a semblance of a laurel leaf framed by a vision of luminescence. Dickens would have been dancing with his muse. From pitch to poesy to scientific gobbledygook. He was of sinful yolk. His white inseparable from his folk.
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Precious gift, So dearly lines that drift, A straightforward yet profound, Words that so truly kind; Noble- In the fountainhead; Hear our mellow voices, Ricochet that blend, Tunes that linger until the raindrops end. Parched leaves that once so jade, Kisses the earth as tinge saunter to fade; Hands that buoy; Wielded every mind to slog, Feet that steered; Night light that flicker behind the bug. Kernels that foster by well fashioned...
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She said he doesn’t wear his boredom well.   Her brother, his wife and two children couldn’t find the house of the birthday celebrator.   They had a party-sized pasta present they did not want to go to waste so came to their house instead.   He was older than her and probably knew better.   Regaled them with two-week-old tales and fillers while she tried to talk and listen and he stifled his...
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Seven offsprings to your womb, you bear Feeding them, working through your heart you felt That love is selfless as you give it to them Life might be difficult but you whistle and say “My spouse, I love… My children I love… Whoever they bear their hairs I braid, their shoes I’ll tie As I breathe the cool air and...
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‘Tis not when a heart beat goes full stop and eyes then lose the power of its stare, Nor when the sheet is stretched to cover up your full length, no longer gasping for air, that my pain like skin scratched by thorns ignored when running away from hunters, can now rest, bleed and cry for attention. There never will be...
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Like I were cocooned, the howling did not need one more to disturb my comfort zone. Turned it every which way but peaceably, the long, anxious ride played horror tricks remembered from stock theories and movies. The pointed pause dropped, ado less crucial than catastrophe, picked up pathos in the agony made by man borrowed from barbarity, insatiate but for a tad as though he were a cad only conscionably...
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