Archive for the ‘Poems’ Category

PostHeaderIcon A Small Seed

                           A Small Seed
                      I am a seed: I am alive.
                   My mommy is sixteen years old. 
                  My daddy is seventeen years old. 
                   She went to the clinic today, 
           The doctor told her she was going to have a baby. 
           My mommy tells my daddy she is going to have a baby. 
               My mommy is crying. My daddy is screaming. 
                 My mommy loves me: my daddy hates me. 
                Why does he want my mommy to kill me? 
                         What did I do wrong? 
                   My mommy is at the clinic again 
                   This time my daddy is with her. 
              I am cold, I wish I could have seen the world 
              I know my mommy loved me, why couldn't daddy? 
               My mommy's love for my daddy was too strong. 
                       And now I am dead because........ 
               I was a seed and my daddy didn't want me... 

PostHeaderIcon Cries of a Child

“How good I feel so cozy and warm Close to my Mommy’s heart. Ten weeks of gestation has given My life such a wonderful start. “It’s great just floating so freely and light In my Mommy’s safe little place.I’m learning now to suck my thumb And do funny things with my face. “I can frown, squint and pucker my brow I am such a sight to see. So many miracles have now taken place To make such a wonderful me. “Yes, Mommie and Daddy must really be proud For the clever thing they have done. I will surely make them happy with glee On the day that I shall be born. “At week 13, I can do many things My movements are graceful and poised. I’m beginning to favor my Mom and my Dad And now I can tell I’m a boy. “At four months of life, I’m a gymnast for sure My somersaults are very fine. My Mommie really knows I am here For I’m tumbling now much of the time. “At six months my hair is beginning to grow A blond I think I will be. Now I can hear my mommy’s sweet voice When she sings lullaby’s to me. My eyes are now open, I can see all around What a glorious creation am I. I can hardly wait to enter the world And begin my most wonderful life. “But wait, something is terribly wrong! “I can’t imagine what it can be. Something’s invading my safe little place And it’s making its way toward me. “It’s hurting me, I just don’t understand Oh mommy, the pain is so bad. What’s happening,I cannot comprehend, It’s destroying the hope that I had.Great terror wrenches the l little heart As the intruder tears at his limbs.The pain isĀ  indescribably bad As his tiny life grows dim. He tries to escape but there’s no where to go There is undefinable heat His whole little body is burning with fire His agony is now complete.All hope is lost, his safe little place Is now so empty and sad. Destroyed is the precious little boy’s life And all the hope that he had. The spirit of life is a precious gift Only God our Father can give. In His own image we are created in love And blessed with our lives to live. So now hear these little cries from beyond And speak out against this strife. Stand up for God, for kindness and love, Stand up for hope and for life.

PostHeaderIcon Only God Knows

she will never see the beauty of a sunrise
nor pick a flower and blow it in the wind
she will never climp up to sit on daddy’s knee
never spend a summer’s day with her best friend
she will never bake cookies with mommy
never know what it’s like to sixteen
never share her love with that special someone
never have the family of her child hood dreams

He will never celebrate his first birthday
He will never hear you call his name out loud
He will never run across the grassy meadow
There wont be a little boy to make you proud
He will never go fishing with daddy
Nor have the joy of buying his first car
He will never get to father his own family
Nor hear his little boy wish upon a star

Day by day, and one by one we’re killing our future
By the thousands every day across the land
Can you tell me what has happened to America
Is there any one who dares to take a stand
We have the blood of little children on our hands
But in heaven God is picking up the pieces
Of countless treasures we have thrown away
While slowly he is reshaping and remolding
Those precious little helpless lumps of clay
So lovingly he hold them in his hand
Only God knows just what they could have been

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