Freelance Friday

For Freelance Friday we were assigned to post another poem or something that we have already written.

 

I wrote this poem last year, and it really makes reality come to life. Many people are less fortunate than I am.

Kind and Gentle Heart

An empty bowl in her hands.
No Food, no water, no help.
Her shirt too small,
no room to grow.
Her pants in shreds.
from start to the end.
Her feet have soars,
too many to count.
Her arms are filthy,
no clean spot to be found.
Her hair is frayed from end to end.
She has not a penny in her hand,
but with faith and hope,
she prays that someday-
a kind and gentle heart
that leaves footprints in the snow,
can bring her a blanket of courage
to make her troubles come to a close.

Photo from Dee <3 On Flickr

http://www.flickr.com/photos/deegrafix/3767620537/

 

http://krebs.edublogs.org/

The Tide Rises, The Tide Falls

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The tide rises, the tide falls,
The twilight darkens, the curlew calls;
Along the sea-sands damp and brown
The traveler hastens toward the town,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
Darkness settles on roofs and walls,
But the sea, the sea in darkness calls;
The little waves, with their soft, white hands
Efface the footprints in the sands,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
The morning breaks; the steeds in their stalls
Stamp and neigh, as the hostler calls;
The day returns, but nevermore
Returns the traveler to the shore.
And the tide rises, the tide falls.

New Year's Eve Day on the North Shore

Photo by: puuikibeach on Flickr

I Am From

I Am From

Inspired by: “Where I’m From” by George Ella Lyon

I am from vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup

From hunting cabinets filled with guns

and racing sheds with grease and hard work written all over them

I am from the white siding and brown roof.

The smell of fresh baked banana bread right out of the oven.

I am from the black soil of our garden,

to the long grass swaying in the summer breeze.

From the old willow tree.

Its crippled posture,

to its weak limbs whose long gone limbs I remember as if they were my own.

I’m from Mulder eyes and Hunt thighs

From Joe and Tami

I’m from a family,

that when we bring that riffle up,

and look down that barrel,

our hearts start beating faster. We pull that trigger, hoping that we get that deer

and we like driving our fast, powerful race cars,

hoping that we will bring home a big trophy

And from a family that spends many hours together by a campfire,

roasting marsh mellows, telling stories and smiling

I’m from “Today, why it’s Christmas day!” and

What we have here is a failure to communicate.” and

Aye kitty, aye kitty.”

I’m From a family that gather at Aunt Faye’s and Uncle Danny’s every year,

on the fourth Thursday in November

We stuff our bellies with turkey and ham,

and when you’re full, you have some more

I’m from an old house, patched up with love,

outside of that little town of 350 people,

that call each other family

I’m from that place that I will always call home

Where I’ve made so many memories of the times that I’ve done crazy things,

and I forever and always, will call that lonely house out in the country, my home.

I’m from Grandma Skip’s famous pancakes and syrup.

From the step-grandpa, Paul (Grizz) Tolonen.

Grizz was honored for serving in the Vietnam War, as a soldier,

and the amazing person that he was.

Grizz was one of the most kind and caring person that I ever knew.

Because of the Vietnam War, Grizz suffered his whole entire life.

He died from a nightmare and loose of oxygen due to the Agent Orange Poison,

that the United States dropped from their planes.

I’m from that room filled with pictures of my ancestors hanging on the walls,

many, many trophies for my Father that many call a “legend,”

a piano that was handed down from my Great-great-great Grandmother.

I am a small limb of my very large, but loving family tree.


Faith and Hope

I wrote this poem this year. I was really excited to share it with everyone. I hope you like it. 🙂

An empty bowl in her hands.

No Food, no water, no help.

Her shirt too small,

no room to grow.

Her pants in shreds.

from start to the end.

Her feet have soars,

too many to count.

Her arms are filthy,

no clean spot to be found.

Her hair is frayed from end to end.

She has not a penny in her hand,

but with faith and hope,

she prays that someday-

a kind and gentle heart

that leaves footprints in the snow,

can bring her a blanket of courage

to make her troubles come to a close.

By: Vanessa