Mother’s Love

Oh my little one take my hand
Come with me to explore this land
Walk with me in the grains of sand
Hand in hand life is so grand

When you were so small
Oh how you would call
Mommy come I had a fall
I would lift you up so tall

When you finally opened the door
You ran and ran on the shore
I could hear you laugh and roar
Oh how you wanted to soar

You are always my sparkle of light
How your love for me burns so bright
My heart is filled with delight
You are my ray of sunlight

The years were filled with memories so grand
I was there when he took your hand
Now it is he who walks with you in the sand
Oh my baby how I miss this land

Now you give me such a surprise
This is so wonderful you realize
As I look into her eyes
I know now I am so wise

The life cycle is complete
Oh my she is so sweet
My heart starts to skip a beat
Oh how my life is bittersweet

Now I look down at her and say
As we sit on the floor to play
I am never far away
I am always here to stay

Oh my little one take my hand
Come with me to explore this land
Walk with me in the grains of sand
Hand in hand life is so grand

 

By Ann LeFlore written to my daughter for all the years of love and happiness in my life with you.

Reflections

The peddles form the perfect flower
Why is your heart so sour
As you stand looking from the tower
The heavens open and start to shower

Reflections of the past
Dance in front of your eyes at last
As you reach for the ring of brass
It crumbles and cuts like glass

Memories flood through your brain
Your heart is entangled with a chain
Tears start to flow with pain
Dropping on the floor to leave a stain

In your ears you hear a cry
You try so hard to replay
Your mouth opens but is so dry
As you try to clarify

The voices echoes in your ears
But no images appears
You search for the souvenirs
They start to form but disappears

Closing your eyes so tight
The images cut like graphite
They leave a bitter bite
As you stand there in the night

Your heart is on fire
Your throat is cut with a wire
Your blood flows with desire
With no one there to admire

Your fate is there to see
They are all there to agree
Oh how you try to flee
Just to make your one last plea

The day is dark and grey
You open your mouth and start to pray
As they start to take you away
For this is your judgment day

 

By Ann LeFlore

Cycles of Life

At sixteen we were so in love
It was like you were my right hand glove
The world was so grand
As we stood hand in hand

At seventeen our love grows strong
Oh boy did we go wrong
From innocence to parenthood
In one single night

As you took my hand
You promised to love me in this new land
At midnight the time had come
To bring forth this new life

At the age of two
She ties her shoe
You walk out the door
To return no more

At the age of four
You swore you would return
As you boarded the plane
How was I to explain

At the age of six
The phone starts to ring
Your voice is so proud
You are sitting on a cloud

As your words echo in my ears
Oh how my eyes flood with tears
You have a new angel
To take over the years

At the age of ten
I stop to pick up the pen
The phone rings once again
I let you back in

Just like before
You are not here no more
At this time I swore
I could take no more

The years have come
The years have passed
You no longer ring
And come to my backdoor

Twenty six to be exact
Since you rang last
Now out of my long forgotten past
You are calling at long last

You reflect back on the past
Thirty six years to be exact
To the day your angel was born
Oh how you blew your horn

After these years of long last
You want to be part of her past
You have returned once again
Oh when will I learn

The memories start to flood within
Oh how my head starts to spin
How can I ever win
I know not how to begin

As in the past you knock at my door
My head starts to spin, my eyes start to pour
Twenty six years have long past
I have been your long lost outcast

Just as before
You ring once more
You want to knock at my backdoor
I am so tired to fall on the floor

At first you are grand
You take my hand
I am here now in my new land
I need to take my stand

The lock on the door is frozen
It is not me the key is chosen
Yet another has entered your life
To one day be your new wife

I am only the key to your long lost past
You have to talk to me at long last
You want to find what you have lost
I am just here for you to toss

You ask my help to find her now
To vow your love
For a time long past
Oh what do you think it can never last

She now is thirty six
And the years have past
She has grown up at long last
She has forgotten her looking glass

To knock at her backdoor once again
To finally pick up the pen
To write your words
In hope you will be heard

When she was small
She needed you to call
As for the years past
She forgot you at long last

She stopped to cry
And ask me why
She finally had dry eyes
For now she won the prize

Her life is complete
Her children are so sweet
Her love is so deep
She has a family to keep

Thirty six years at long last
Take a look into your past
The angel that was once there
Is only your lost prayers

If  she opens the backdoor
Stop before you step on the floor
Think of what you want
Then gain her confidence

If you walk out once more
This will be war
Never call again
Never stop by her backdoor

Written by Ann LeFlore

Hell NO WE Won’t Go

Images taken from: http://vietnam-war.commemoration.gov.au/vietnam-war/

The year is 1973 and I am 15 years old. This year I entered High School as the last leg of my studies to graduate. From that point on I have few choices I can make in my life. One get married and have a family. Two go off to College and further my education. Three take a few years off and travel. Four get a job and move out on my own. But this year is different. As I watch my school mates being drafted and shipped overseas to a war nobody wants to be in. The Vietnam War; that makes young men flee from their County in fear of the draft. 

In the years past I sat and watched the body bags and caskets being unloaded from the planes as they brought home the dead. I hear the fear in my friends’ voices as they announce their brother just received his draft notice in the mail. He has to register and be shipped off to this senseless war. The look in their eyes, the fear, the question will they ever see him again? 

By 1973 the war has started to affect everyone. I for one was no different. I had started to participate in a rebellious battle. My hair was long past my butt and half way to my knees. I braided my hair each day adding a leather band on my forehead. I would add flowers to my hair. I wore tie-dyed shirts to make a statement. I would take the new Levis my parents bought for me and soak them in bleach with rocks inside the bucket. After I would cut the legs outer seam of my pants up to the knees and add bright flowered material to make the bell bottom jeans everyone was wearing. I spent hours on end embodying peace signs, flowers, and anti-war designs on my pants.  I had to do my part. 

Everyone at school was wearing leather and silver bracelets with someone’s name on it. Praying for the men and boys who were captured or missing. Some of my friends’ Mothers volunteered at the offices set up for families of the war. Their job was to keep track of the POW’s and MIA’s. After school we would go to the office and collect bags of bracelets and roam the streets selling them to everyone. We believed if everyone wore a bracelet with a soldiers name on it he would come home again to his family. 

My solider was Col. Joseph Bowers. He never made it home. He is still on the list today of the MIA’s that never made it out of Vietnam. I followed my solider each day looking on the list hoping he was found. Hoping he would be reunited with his family and loved ones. He never was. To this day nobody knows what happened to him. 

As part of our anti-war efforts my friends and I created a book. We wrote pomes to the loved ones to give them hope. We sent our pomes off to the families of the solider we carried on our arms. We put forth all our efforts to try and stop a war that nobody wanted to fight. At one point we organized a sit in the middle of town. We thought if the Government would not listen to us maybe our local Congress would. Our efforts were of no vial. Nobody cared what happened to our friends. How young they were and why they had to leave to a Country that did not care about another person’s life. 

This is my Poem to the family of Col. Joseph Bowers and all the other men who were captured or lost in Vietnam.

The Sorrow of our Times 

Holy Father in Heaven above
Protect the men that we do love
Bless our children’s innocent face
Keep them safe in this unknown place
May they know that we are there
Holding hands in silent prayers 

Holy Father in Heaven above
You created him for me to love
You picked him out from all the rest
Because you know I’d love him best 

Holy Father in Heaven above
Look upon his innocent face
Protect his soul from his fears
Let him shed no more tears 

Holy Father in Heaven above
Take my son to thy above
Cleans his soul for what he’s done
Keep him safe for years to come 

Holy Father in Heaven above
Keep my son safe for me
Let him look from Heaven above
Knowing we are there to love 

Holy Father in Heaven above
Keep his memories safe with me
His touches so soft and kind
Will stay with me to the end of time 

I wrote this prayer to Col. Joseph Bowers’s family in his memory. He was sent to Vietnam and never returned home again. His body was never found and his family still morns his death to this day. I was 15 years old when Col. Joseph touched my life. I wore his name on my arm for years after the war. As I grew older I took this silver band off and placed it in a safe place. Every now and then I pull it out and look back on time to the year of 1973. To this day my bracelet still carries the blue star incased in the white circle telling me that Col Joseph Bowers is still a MIA in Vietnam.

Never forget the men and women that are away from home. It might not be Vietnam but it is a war all the same. My Uncle was lost in WW2. He boarded the last submarine in Pearl Harbor when it was attacked. He and his crew limped the damaged sub to San Francisco for repair. The last time my Mother ever saw her brother was the day he boarded the sub again headed towards Japan. His sub was lost somewhere in the South Pacific never to be found again. My Uncle rests at the bottom of the ocean incased in a medal prison. 

Never forget the men and women who have given their lives for America. Say a silent prayer now for each person who has given their lives so that you can be free today. Say a prayer for each man and woman that is away from their families now at war. Say a prayer for their families to bring their loved ones home safe to them. Each day take a moment to reflect back on the men of the past and the families that went on after they were gone.

By Ann LeFlore
A reflection back in time to the years of war that affected an entire nation

 

 

The Eagles Last Flight

As the sunsets in the Southern skies
The great white eagle starts to rise
His giant wings take flight in the failing sunlight
This night we stand and look with fright

The eagle has been with us all these years
Guiding us through all our fears
Blowing away our tears
Protecting us and listening to our prayers

 Now he has come to take you home
Your time to roam has come to an end
There’s nothing more for you to mend
He has arrived to send you peace in the night

The great white eagle bends down to wrap you in his wings
In the distance the giant bag pipes begin to sing
The king of kings is waiting by the spring
As the eagle starts to flap his wings

The night skies sparkle with silver light
This will be your last flight in the middle of the night
Oh the time is so right as you hold on through the flight
The bright light is there for you to see

The eagle has guided you home to the heaves above
You are there looking down with love
Each time the eagle passes us by
They are your eyes guiding us home one day

Written by Ann LeFlore
In memory of her Father who recently passed away

No Worries

No Worries

Free to Dance

 

Flying through the air
Feel like the world
Does not exists
Just enjoying myself
In my own way
I feel like no one is there
No worries to worry about
It is just me in my own world
Dancing to be free
It is my passion
I just relax and let my body flow
Because this is me
No one can tell me how to dance
I just love to dance my own way

By Trinity Smith Age 10

Adventures In the Night

Adventures in the Night

Adventures in the Night

Net in one hand
Flashlight in the other
Being as quite as can be
Sneaking up behind him
Trying not to scare him
I smack my net to the wall
I caught him
I get him in the net
He is trying to escape
But I don’t let him
Having so much fun
Giggling and laughing
I caught a lizard

By Trinity Smith Age 10

Book

Book

Images from being List in a book world

Sitting here all alone
In my magical world
Seeing the book in my own way
Loving each word day by day
Almost done can’t wait till the next
My imagination flows on and on
My grandma says it is time for dinner
So sad but still a winner
Can’t wait to go back to my book
I end up finishing and go to the next
Reading and reading on and on
Till all my books are gone

By Trinity Smith Age 10

The Witch is Transformed

Written by Ann LeFlore: for TheGooseberry Garden Poetry Slam Week 11 Halloween Special. This is the last day before the frightful night so be prepared what you will see on Halloween night. You still have a chance to run and hide to protect yourself from the creatures that come out tomorrow night. Happy Halloween everyone and hope that you have a wonderful Halloween and see you back next year with some more wonderful poem for this time of year.

The Witch is Transformed

 

On Halloween night you start to change
Your body begins to transform and rearrange
When the sun goes down and the full moon glows
Your life is not the same and starts to transpose

Your hair turns grey and starts to grow
Your breath reeks like stale tobacco
Your nails harden like the claws of a bear
Your eyes are sunken with a darkened glare

Your dress turns to rags and starts to tear
Your nose is large and pointy like the Delaware
Your fingers are long and start to crack
Your back starts to change and becomes hunchback

Your lips become cracked and turn to an ashen grey
Your voice escapes through your blocked airway
Your toes begin to curl and turn
Your ears grow frail and start to burn

Your teeth turn black and start to rot out
Your veins start to protrude and fill with gout
Your heart starts to shrink and turn black
Your voice is raspy and starts to crack

Next thing you know you start to chant
You go so mad you rave and rant
You look for your largest kettle
Big and round and black as metal

The fire starts to crackle and burn
As the spells inside your head start to turn
The children start to come to your gate
Candies and goodies are used for bait

The caldron begins to bubble and hiss
The black cat stands by your feet and assists
For in your glance there is a snare
And in your smile there is a scare

The children are summands one by one
There is no place to hide no place to run
The caldron is ready for your stew
The children are added with the last cockatoo

For tonight is the night for the witches feast
No one is safe on this night not man or beast
Just one day of the year the witches run wild
Run and hide and save your grandchild

The Groom of the Dead Bride

Written by Ann LeFlore: for dVerse Open Link Night Week 15. Well Halloween is only a few days off now and everyone is preparing for the growling and frightful night. So to get us all in the mood here is another Halloween poem to spike your spirits. Happy Halloween and may all your spooks be frightful and gleam.

The Groom of the Dead Bride

 

The thunder tolls the hour of the dead
The witches stop and turn their heads
The goblins start to dance by the moon light
The vampire bats wake up and take flight

Tonight is the night to wake the dead
Lift them up from their dark sunken beds
The spider webs glow a silvery haze
The widows stalk their unsuspected prey

Tonight the blood will flow from your souls
To seep deep beneath and fill the holes
Up from the moss filled earthen soil
The burley wood is rotten and begins to spoil

The vapors rise up from the graves below
To grab the eyes of the blackened crows
The order starts to seep and fill our nose
The darkened flowers turn to blackened rose

Graves begin to crack and moan
As we listen to their eerie groans
Rumbling sound from down deep within
Up from the ground rises your evil twin

The church bells toll the hour we await
The bride stands there at half past eight
The groom is called and can’t be late
For tonight is his one and only fait

The bride awaits her virgin man
To marry and take his mortal hand
Together they will rule this land
Here they will take their one last stand

The groom arrives in his hypnotic state
Standing before the pearly gate
The church bells toll the hour of nine
Their souls are filled with bloody red wine

The kiss of death is on his lips
Her claws dig in for their final grips
The marriage made on this dead mans night
Can only end in a horrible fright

The mere mortal has turned to ashen dust
To serve and please her every lust
The marriage is sealed with the final kiss
She screams in the hour of her bliss

Dead begin to dance and sing
For now he wears her ring
Trapped deep within her blackened grace
Hypnotized to love her sunken face

The marriage is made in hell we see
As she sings like a banshee
On the thirty first day he died
Only on Halloween he is barley alive