Mommy Magic

I wrote this poem for my mom on Mother's Day. I put together an album of pictures with me and my brother and put this poem as the cover. :)

You have always been here
to wash and fix our hair;
to deal with all the messes
and lighten our despair.
You have always been here
to share all happy news;
to calm our fears and dry our eyes
when we have the blues.
You have Mommy Magic
that fixes cuts and scrapes;
it even fixes sadness
when our hearts deeply ache.
You're a special mommy,
there's no doubt that's true.
You're filled with love and magic
and that's why we love you.

Roses

She looks around the room
And finally finds it;
What wasn't there before.
She spots the blood- red rose
Wound in black satin ribbon.
Slowly she glides toward it,
Hand outstretched.
Wanting to grasp it,
To be sure it's really there,
But scared as well.
Scared of the truth.
If the ribbon and rose are there,
Then it means he is not.
That he never will be.
She grabs it and holds it to her heart,
Sobbing for the reality.
She screams and rushes from the room.
She runs away from the place
Of so much anger and hate,
But also of so much love.
She runs away, but does not escape
For she still carries the sign.
The sign of her loss.
She runs to the lake and sees
Her real bloody rose
No longer breathing,
Still clutching her picture
And the ruby- hilted dagger.
She screams and grabs it,
Turning it on herself.
She plunges it into her own body
And falls beside him,
Never letting go of her roses.
She clutches them both tighter
Sobs, "I love you"
And draws one last breath,
Never letting go.

His Eyes

His eyes are an array of color;
an exact replica of Adonis.
They can display the slightest emotion
or betray no sign of his mood.
His eyes amaze me as they watch,
carefully memorizing my every move;
staring deep within the depths of my heart
with those beautiful, expresive eyes.
They light up when we dance and touch,
and grow dark when we argue and fight.
The windows to his soul, they allow me a glimpse...
A glimpse at who he truly is...
A glimpse at the terrible pain and true love.
he way he portrays life, the way he loves me,
is seen in his eyes.

Untitled

The blood drips to the floor,
she slowly cries out in pain;
Once again the metal blade
causes her new shame.
It fiercely burns her tender flesh,
But still she cannot feel
What her heart has caused her
So this is how she deals.
And now her task is finally done,
She falls down to the floor.
Her mother’s scream awakens the town
As she opens up her daughter’s door.
She sees her baby lying there,
Her sobs lasting for what seems so long.
She drops to her knees beside the girl
And wonders where she went wrong.
She wonders why her daughter felt
She had to go this way, this time.
She wonders why she never got to say
"I love you," one last time.

Thoughts...

It's really early in the morning and i can't sleep. Some "gangster" just drove by with the radio blaring a song about sex, rape, drugs, and alcohol. Is all that really necessary in one song? Or at all? It is so degrading to hear someone brag about how many times they've been convicted of rape or how much alcohol they drink. What ever happened to this thing called "self pride?" Or courtesy? Not only for yourself, but for those around you as well. It's also degrading to hear women being treated as less than nothing. Is there no respect for anything anymore? It's downright disgusting to listen to the things some people say. And that goes in any circumstance, whether it be in music or just in conversation. Aren't there any "taboos" anymore? Is nothing sacred about humanity or life anymore? Does nothing hold value or meaning? Or maybe hate is just corrupting more than we think it is. More than it should. Maybe we are making it go further than it ought. It ought not to be present at all. Hate should never take precedence over anything, no matter what. It should be love that guides us. Corruption cannot always be fixed, but love can always bloom.