A Mother's Day Poem (True Love Is A Blessing, A Blessing Words Can Not Possibly Give Thanks Enough)

You are my mother

I owe you all

My hair, my eyes

My chin, my brow

I can never repay the debt I owe

A debt you never thought about before

A debt you would most adamantly refuse to spell

For, good or bad,

For right or wrong,

I am that glimmer that can’t be drowned

To you, I am that perfection you’ll always dote upon

              I am the ideal within each your songs

              The only place to feel home when I feel drowned

              The one true space when I feel less than strong

And in you, I see the good in me

You are the mirror, ever showing the best sides of my reality

             And in you, I am told I am the best that’s ever been

You instill belief, which still breeds a possibility,  

That deep beneath my every sin, you’ll only ever see the good within

          

         You are my mother, the only one there could have been

         And I’ve been blessed to be your son

         You are my mother, the best any could ever choose as home

         You’ve given all, all for me

         From the right to breathe, to this flesh and bone

         I can never repay for the life you’ve given,

Nor can I give thanks enough, for teaching me to bet,

The man to which I’ve grown into

And what you’ve given is all you could

My accomplishments, my feats

Owe homage to you deeply,

Yet my maladies are not a burden you can own

Those are on fate and me alone,

And despite the powerlessness in your stare

You still always find a way to push the boundaries in your own flair

Love’s the light that guides the blind

And love’s the thing I think of when I dream

A spotlight on all in life, the power, the gift of mind

A sacred verse never out of sight

A passage and direction, always caring, ever here

You are my mother, a fact I’m blessed to own

The one thing I wouldn’t change if I even could,

A reality so profound, it makes even the darkest of days

A reality clearly understood and entirely well pronounced.

And each night before I close my eyes,

I say an extra prayer, for all the unborn

Children yet to come, to be so lucky

To have a mother who loves them even half as much

As you’ve always showered your love on me.

Merry Christmas To all. 3 Poems to share.

Merry Christmas to everyone.  Hope you enjoyed a wonderful Christmas Eve and share an even better Christmas day with your families.  At my house we celebrate our big get together on Christmas Eve.  It's always a big event, and it was once again this year.  I'm stuffed.  Completely ruined my diet tonight, but oh well, one day down and the rest of the year to make up for it. :)   

So, for tonight's OLN, I thought I'd try to do some Christmas blogging.  I did some Haiku, which, for those who enjoy this form, can be found over at my Wordpress site.  I made some Christmas cards over at Sqwerm, and for here, I came up with three poems.  

The first is a very abstract Christmas poem, where, without me telling you it's actually about Christmas, would most likely be difficult to figure out.  The second is a mix between abstract and straightforward and The third is straightforward.

Again, hope everyone had/will have mades some great Christmas memories this year, and thanks again for all the support, with all my sites.  Thanks.

Christmas Poem #1- Abstract 

There, upon that day. Titanium Trioxides were found,

Buried at knee-high depth, in that, the hope chest, of antithesis.

Eyes, lithe as a cantor’s range is long, intuit calm, each the melody of its psalm, sung low by cello’s voice, harnessing the third option, found in-between, life and feint. Parallel to the beams of ray-fly-fly-fly (enter harpsichord)

This restoration, where those charred sighs cringe, quenches the fatherless emotions. These are those that you always played make-believe upon, that this all, all of it, was but a side-effect of the dream you were sired from.

These singeing solemnities balm the undercoating with a cryogenically optimized lathering, scientifically known as frost.  

Upon the lamina of the blind, augmentations sear those images found therein.

And here, you remain, in frozen chains, rattling to the east and clinking to the west.  In your mind, the slightest changes ripple an effective elation within the north and bury the other 364 deeply south.

Christmas Poem #2

For tonight was an eve, like any day before.  Yet this was a prelude to a day of incomparable bounties and, for some, the birth of a Savior that will one day rise again.

Here so many dreams have already appeared to us and still, the promise of the many more yet to appear is strong. Here, you know, you just know deep inside, that those jubilations and gifted offerings will certainly come true, perhaps even in the morn, when you once again flit your eyes.  

It is a day that brings the promise of salvation, the unification of family and the hope for a better tomorrow. A blissful dream.  A cherished reality.  A day that is ever built up to.

Christmas Poem #3

The children elate so swiftly as the morning’s curtain pulls up high.  Feet scuttle to the tree, shaking presents faster than the parents can wipe the sand out of their not quite awoken eyes.

Papers are ripped and tossed aside. The pure euphoria found in these precious seconds, should be bottled and saved for those days that aren’t so bright.

For on this morning, within the children’s eyes, there you'll find, enough light to illuminate the darkest of the darkest nights.

And without even opening their own gifts, the mothers, fathers, brothers and sisters, are all filled with what this day holds dear, a joy so fulfilling it shines down many, many moments that are immediately collected and stored for all the rest of time.

D'Verse has decided to keep their doors open tomorrow for any who wish to celebrate Christmas by unwrapping presents of poetry.  I'm sure many are occupied with celebrating this day with family and friends, yet, if you find the moment or that need for poetry, then stop on by and see what gifts are under the D'verse Tree.  

Merry Christmas to all and may all of you receive every gift you could ever want and need.  

The Extinguished Revival of the Contemporary Arsonist

listen to ‘The Extinguished Revival of a Contemporary Arsonist (New)’ on Audioboo

It’s not what takes place at the birth and

death of every hour, but instead, what symmetries are provided upon the thirties— dividing lines of power

Amidst a veil of tragedy,

an encapsulating entity reveals itself

to be, a personality of untapped

potentiality, a reason for forbearance, a reason

to atone what’s been lost by disdainful blows

Amidst the reaches of escape,

to which our tragedies often follow flow,

we can enunciate the possibility of rendering

useless, through the daunting effects they often play

No longer must we wallow in our pitiful seas of

sweat and fear.  No longer is it necessary to dream alone in black and grey.  Now exposed, a new destination ignites the

sparks to which we pour our promises into, offering the symbolisms of hope and the prayer that shall lead us down an enlightened path

However, consequence is always alive in every choice there is to be made….

              Those that harrow our escape, can include what would be soured at during any other given time, yet in such spots as these, the finer points are buried beneath the opened windows that this new brand of savior here completes

Amidst a veil of tragedy, an encapsulating personality reveals itself.  It is here where we eagerly agree to its many hidden terms, where it dethrones us of our combative sense of self-loathing, and leads us up the peaks, to a world completely concealed by the bountiful wonders that shield us from evil’s corrosive eye. 

Yet, to such a choice, consequentiality demands repayment of our contracts stipulations.  Here, we find our chains forever freed, yet still, we must substitute one oppressor for the next, as we find ourselves knelled to their feet, offering up our fealty, bare and ever-more-forever frightfully exposed.   

To such ends, we mind not the burden caused by our individualized subservience.  For it’s not the expressions…no, it is the expressions, glazed upon our family and friends, which make extinguishing conflagration’s kiss, a sacrifice we’d, without doubt, if revisit we ever must, willfully renew, without a bat of lash or a shy of eye.

Together, forge forth and forward recall all the reasons why, we began onto such onsets, striving to, not complete victorious trots about a central stage, but, to do only what we can, and try, is, at last check, synonymous with the definition that embodies the spirit of man

Stop on over to D'Verse where Open Link Night will take its usual spot on the Tuesday Night place to be list.  Doors open at 3pm and it gets crowded really quick, with the party running all night long and longer.  So, write a poem, post it on your site then use the link tool at D'Verse to share your work with the D'Verse community, where a plethora of amazing poetry is always on display. Cheers 

Happy Gravesites

Hearts in a hive,

those stinging bites

once made of flame

aged down to stone,

anew—in part—

enough of you—

returns—

every second’s an hour—

every hour, days

Hearts in a swarm

That tingling bliss

Sensation, bleeds plush again

With Each nibble, the more you leave,

happy gravesites—artifacts—

of what used to be—intact

and no longer can the cold of stone,

affect the warmth inside.