• What do you think about this poem?

    Calmly chaotic and rather psychotic Trying to navigate this modern society. Full of trauma in all its variety. Asking myself how to find home with strangers undertone, I'm alone! Stealing, lying, cheating, poor old grandmama. Would running away be better by far? Gotta get that roof over her silly head. God knows she needs to sleep in a... show more
    Calmly chaotic and rather psychotic Trying to navigate this modern society. Full of trauma in all its variety. Asking myself how to find home with strangers undertone, I'm alone! Stealing, lying, cheating, poor old grandmama. Would running away be better by far? Gotta get that roof over her silly head. God knows she needs to sleep in a bed! Shyly reclusive must evolve. Personality isn't resolve. Shut down the smile and do not speak because life is nasty for a bipolar freak. Take the meds, just sleep and eat. I've given up! Accepted defeat!
    3 answers · Poetry · 3 weeks ago
  • Do you like this Christmas poem?

    One little Angel flew down from the very top of the tree and softly landed tiptoeing around upon the edge of my knee! "Don't cry" she said with a rosebud smile, "Angels never forget!" With tiny white feathers this magical creature dried my teardrops of regret. I never grew up! Always imagining, giggling and trying to enjoy... show more
    One little Angel flew down from the very top of the tree and softly landed tiptoeing around upon the edge of my knee! "Don't cry" she said with a rosebud smile, "Angels never forget!" With tiny white feathers this magical creature dried my teardrops of regret. I never grew up! Always imagining, giggling and trying to enjoy everyday ... But they did! The children grew up, so alone beside a tree is the price I must pay. Couldn't give them houses cars or every single thing their little darling hearts did so dearly desire .. Love doesn't add up! Love isn't sharing a cup, nor does it create Empathy! Love only made me a liar!
    3 answers · Poetry · 2 months ago
  • Is this short poem moving?

    Lingering laughter of children echoes hauntingly but it's gone! Christmas morning, Easter egg hunt, Mothers day, the sun shone. Alone on Christmas day ... I guess lonely is here to stay! Adults no longer ask to play. Parenthood's evolving way. Grandma's don't equal much! I miss my little kids touch!
    Lingering laughter of children echoes hauntingly but it's gone! Christmas morning, Easter egg hunt, Mothers day, the sun shone. Alone on Christmas day ... I guess lonely is here to stay! Adults no longer ask to play. Parenthood's evolving way. Grandma's don't equal much! I miss my little kids touch!
    2 answers · Poetry · 2 months ago
  • Is the spelling correct in this poem, titled, "Where do you softly cry?"..?

    Where do you softly cry? When secretly asking why? Who hears the humblest sigh? If ever your heart feels it might die? What place exists? My mind resists! Can I make visits? Is it only within mists? Do you write it all down? Scribbling with a frown? Are Angels kissing your crown? Or do you openly cry in your town?
    Where do you softly cry? When secretly asking why? Who hears the humblest sigh? If ever your heart feels it might die? What place exists? My mind resists! Can I make visits? Is it only within mists? Do you write it all down? Scribbling with a frown? Are Angels kissing your crown? Or do you openly cry in your town?
    13 answers · Poetry · 8 months ago
  • Do you like this poem for my new grandchild?

    From Grandmama I'm overflowing with pure and utter joy. A miracle, a baby was born and, "He's a boy!" He is priceless, so precious to me. I'm doing cartwheels, just bursting with glee. Nobody else cares, to say "Congratulations", you see. Grandmother smiles, she is in a state of ecstasy. They call themselves my... show more
    From Grandmama I'm overflowing with pure and utter joy. A miracle, a baby was born and, "He's a boy!" He is priceless, so precious to me. I'm doing cartwheels, just bursting with glee. Nobody else cares, to say "Congratulations", you see. Grandmother smiles, she is in a state of ecstasy. They call themselves my friends, indeed. Grumpy, rude people, full of greed, full of need. A stranger just shook my hand, yes, an indigenous 28 year old man. Born on the very same day, that sacred date, the 2nd of May. Angels work in a mysterious way, coincidentally, cheerfully, at play. Exquisitely reigning, because, I'm in training. My youngest son and his gorgeous wife, did what came naturally yet they humbly changed my life. A love that cannot be explained or spoken. Truelove of bloodline, beyond any golden token. I adore you! Little baby man. Adorable! Grandma is your fan! I'll be here, very near, never gone too far. For you, Leo ... From your admiring Grandmama.
    1 answer · Poetry · 9 months ago
  • Are you an excellent Poet?

    5 answers · Poetry · 9 months ago
  • Will you please read this poem and give me some feedback on it? The title is "Newborn" by proud as punch grandmother. Do you like this?

    Newborn A phone call came just yesterday, from my youngest son, fifth child. "Your 2nd grandson arrived today" so my reaction certainly wasn't mild. "Oh My God" I cried as I burst into tears, listening to my boy who was now a dad. "Emergency cesarean, we're in shock, she can't hold him yet, so she's a bit... show more
    Newborn A phone call came just yesterday, from my youngest son, fifth child. "Your 2nd grandson arrived today" so my reaction certainly wasn't mild. "Oh My God" I cried as I burst into tears, listening to my boy who was now a dad. "Emergency cesarean, we're in shock, she can't hold him yet, so she's a bit sad" Teardrops streamed down my old face, "He's in the bubble, due to being early, high heart rate, quick surgery, I'm in shock" He spoke, so proud of his wife, his girly. I ran as fast as my old feet could caper, to buy & deliver the flower arrangement. My daughter in law, a true champion, smiles sweetly, like at her engagement. They're parents now, Mummy & Daddy, yes, Mr & Mrs amazing ... In their 20's, with love a plenty, Grandma just sits around gazing!
    2 answers · Poetry · 9 months ago
  • Is this poem any good, "Angels rest", and may I please have feedback?

    Angels rest Until my knees are bloodied and worn, I'll tend this grave at dusk, then at dawn. My back will ache, hands blistered and torn, yet for her sake, this heart has sworn. As tending, weeding and feeding a garden for a baby who was born, Angelic whisperings echo, giggling, as flowers fall on green lawn. I will not stop unless, I rest... show more
    Angels rest Until my knees are bloodied and worn, I'll tend this grave at dusk, then at dawn. My back will ache, hands blistered and torn, yet for her sake, this heart has sworn. As tending, weeding and feeding a garden for a baby who was born, Angelic whisperings echo, giggling, as flowers fall on green lawn. I will not stop unless, I rest in my grave. My darling sweet child, the one, I could not save. Another birthday, "It's been over thirty years!" Yes, I'm well aware, shedding oceans of tears. Upon my humble soul, God knows, Mother will make poetry & prose. I'll be here, baby girl for you, doing my utmost, holy very best. Return so often, as others eyeroll, to a peaceful place, where Angels rest.
    1 answer · Poetry · 9 months ago
  • Could you please give me a bit of feedback on my "Haystack" poem?

    Haystack Laying on your back, chewing on a stick of straw. Checkered shirt, pony tail, cutest country girl, that I ever saw. Scented fresh air, your rose water perfume. Lavender in the fields, purple in full bloom. Sunshine sparkling, highlights that golden hair. I'm climbing this haystack with a milkshake we can share.
    Haystack Laying on your back, chewing on a stick of straw. Checkered shirt, pony tail, cutest country girl, that I ever saw. Scented fresh air, your rose water perfume. Lavender in the fields, purple in full bloom. Sunshine sparkling, highlights that golden hair. I'm climbing this haystack with a milkshake we can share.
    9 answers · Poetry · 10 months ago
  • Do you love this little rhyming poem that I just penned for yahoo?

    Softly whispered upon wind, echoing in gentle breezes, pretty girl's sneezes and water as she freezes. Fall down to your knees and pray to whoever you believe. Looking for answers, spiritual gifts beg you to retrieve. Complex yet simple, that cute little dimple. Our humble hearts pierced by Cupid's darts. Arrows of love with pain, they... show more
    Softly whispered upon wind, echoing in gentle breezes, pretty girl's sneezes and water as she freezes. Fall down to your knees and pray to whoever you believe. Looking for answers, spiritual gifts beg you to retrieve. Complex yet simple, that cute little dimple. Our humble hearts pierced by Cupid's darts. Arrows of love with pain, they reign yet fall in vain. Floating around in sound, found fleeting yet never bound. Captured and enraptured, feelings of Truelove. One white glove, Oh my God above! "Why do you push and shove?" Sprinkle fairy dust, not filthy boring lust. Bring, sing, yell, if you must, speaking of what is just. Until the grave, my soul I save. Still your slave, my word, I gave.
    2 answers · Poetry · 10 months ago
  • Feedback on this, "Mother-Craft" poem, please and thank you?

    Mother-Craft. Anticipation with perspiration, swollen ankles and sheer fear. The expecting mother soldiers on, knowing her newborn baby in near. Nesting with nappies and cradle, every toy silently waits for baby. She knows her life will change forever, it's not going to be a "maybe" Forgotten in the aftermath, when baby comes... show more
    Mother-Craft. Anticipation with perspiration, swollen ankles and sheer fear. The expecting mother soldiers on, knowing her newborn baby in near. Nesting with nappies and cradle, every toy silently waits for baby. She knows her life will change forever, it's not going to be a "maybe" Forgotten in the aftermath, when baby comes home, "There was no pain" ... Mothers chatter on the phone. Sleepless nights with constant little frights. Nightlights, birthrights, always kept within her sights. Your screaming crying baby is almost driving you insane. Running around in circles but the baby is never to blame. The scent of poo and vomit seems to linger in the air. The house looks like a bomb hit it, yet, does the little mother care? Maternal instincts are an Art, such a challenge, I call it Mother-Craft. Dare not ask if they'd change in hindsight, or they'll snap, "OMG, are you flipping daft?"
    2 answers · Poetry · 10 months ago