A mother was made -

Disclaimer: (If anyone would like to comment to me about this poem, please do so via e-mail at mistyarizona@hotmail.com, as my personal life is very private, and although I draw from my life to write, I never reveal persons identities "and assumptions, you are right, are not very nice". I ask that you respect this, as I have respected, all that you have asked of me.) 

Something beautiful came my way – nine months later - on cold – winters day

Wrapped in linen – the world to see – the sin of love - that grew – inside of me

I labored long – and born the pain – for another woman – who would raise my seed

She who would see – this piece of me – grow and shine – from my womb – would be

She held tight – when I cried out in pain – the loss was mine – for her to gain

Little foot steps – raised far from - my sight – never knowing – my love – given not a gain

She paid her lot – I paid not the same – and gave another – my love – unselfishly – no matter the pain

Years they pass – and who’s to say – what mothers – love is – or how – it may be - kept at a far

Time does not heal – all pains you see – when one thinks – they have bought – the very core of me

If I had known – what I know today – that another felt – I beholden – because of fee – they did pay

Giving - my first love – would have been given to me – for my love holds - no cost - no fee

I have loved all - I hold near – I have never considered fee – a levy to life – giving without love – is not a fair price

So – you go on holding my love – at a cost – you go on holding her tight – at our loss

You have coveted my gift – and lied of me - I am sure – so never to lose – cause – you wanted her – yours - that she is – no one dare say not – because you have the receipt – and then you dared plot

To defile – a love - given not gained – you have distorted my love and made it pure shame

You have caused – this little one – to think badly of me – you have lied – so you may seem – that you are the better of me – and in this – she never will want – look for a love – given without gain but in agony and pain

Oh how my heart grieves – for you - not for me – for in my sin of love  – was given freely – and through your shame – of feeling less than me – you coveted my heart – and closed her away – from a mother who longs to hold her – if only just - once again

In saying this – I know it comes to mind – that I signed her away – so she is yours – not mine – for I am not the mother her – the signature is clear

So this is true and you are in the right – but don’t ever think I don’t care of her plight – I will always wonder – why she dare not look for me – and I know - now it is because thee

You lied and you twisted all that I am – so she would never dare to think she was loved even then – by a young girl – alone and afraid – who gave all that she had – and you a mother was made

calculation of life

Ancient of days – show me all - that you say - that you be

Son of man – say what you will – trillions to one – through divine prophecies

Pour out – your wisdom – from the creed – that you came

“I-shall-be that I-shall-be” – is this wisdom or sum

The calculation of life and where we came from

Or the dogma of many from a fated one

Encoded through all – time – of which - all men will ponder

The creation of life – how our minds do wonder

Yellow Daffodil

In a little wooded house, up atop hill, amongst the quail and yellow daffodil, I dream of a love pure, not tainted from the land. These hands which have toiled under sun,  making way regardless, all that has been done. A love of pure delight that turns all into one, as dawn rises from the east to the west of the setting sun.

Broken lost through time, from my heart I do speak the dreamer in my soul and of love which I do seek.

Through heat storm thundered rain, the smells of fresh renew, falling on top of holed tin roof, as the water does seep through. There is a storm, which rages inward and outward for all to see, a broken heart not known but only to me. As the rain, falls tapping on the holed tin, I look out on the wildness of all that has been done. Through harshness winds that have blow, rivers running wild, through a land of hollowed out sorrow as time pasted long before and with future not yet unlocked because my heart not dare to dream.

Here atop this hill, sitting in my wooded house, gazing through her cracked and weathered panes, I glimpse a mother quail, tending her clutch among the yellow daffodil. The smells of fresh fallen rain still linger in the air. The presents of renewal for all that dare to take, has been poured out on the land which mans toil cannot make.

It is from the heavens of our land, of the south winds that did blow, comes in a love divine, I dare and will take hold. For under brightened sun the grass does gleam with dew, the soft winds fill the air of fallen rains renew. It makes one dare to dream of future dawns not past. A sun that raises, atop a hill which no man dare try grasp.

Here within the yellow daffodil, my mind will wonder far, with visions of a weathered time that may rage onward still but with life brought by storm filled skies, rises dawns morning light and within this, my heart will take flight. Seeking out a dream of loves pure delight. Yellow daffodil are grasped as quail tend their clutch with smells of fresh spilled rain of renewal I dare touch.

Audacity!

politics – a silly people - game we play – judgment of others – with prejudice – we try to sway

great influence – is used to distort and slant – our –“in times” – which we then see – with only a stinted glace

we follow along without reason or rhyme – never checking the facts – what are our “in times” or “seasons”

like a herd of sheep – off to the slaughter – we gather in masses – with no leader – yet we follow

our masses – they gather – with cries – loud and clear – we want to follow – just make the path clear

with narrow-mindedness and preconceptions at hand – we look at our foes – with injustice – in hand

we cry out – yet we slander – all that we see – with no comprehension – that you and I make a – we

then we ask – that our leaders – make us as one – a community of peoples – with a rival - of none

those who cry loudest – will be heard – on this day – with righteous indignation – and hearts do we play

politics – this silly people – game - we do play – with the souls of others – no cares – now kept at bay

the winners in one hand – the loser – in defeat – who cares what the people think – because we follow in masses – with leaders – known not – only seen through the rose colored glasses

the glasses we choose – so not to see – because we are – followers – of the leaders - that be

never caring – and - without understanding – the slaughter is at hand – we the people – have now chosen – the lesser - of evils

the communities of people – that we say – that we are – are just sheep to slaughter – of the politics we play

all of these games – we say make us – one – really just  selfishness – when the day is done

Why?

Because we have the audacity to say that – WE WON!