Only daughter, eldest child.
Shy at first,
In her twenties a bit wild.
Broke some hearts, shed some tears.
Settled down at 26 years.
Has husband and son, and another little bun.
Due December 08.
Can hardly wait.
This one a little girl.
Pigeon Pair complete
That will be it for pitter patter of little feet.
Has always scribbled words and ... more »
Click here to add this poet to your My Favorite Poets.
Israh Sadan Poems
I've never trusted happiness. We've never quite been friends. And everytime that my heart breaks, It never really mends.
Angel in my arms
Shiny little eyes smile up at me Tiny chubby hands touch my face
A Poem about Silly Breasts
Several times a day I have to move them out my way Hitched them up Or rearranged
Goodnight my Star
Sleep my child I put thee to rest. I gave you life, I did my best.
A Global Marriage
They lie in oposite hemispheres of the bed. Silently scared in the East And stubbornly asleep in the West And in between them
My independence liberates you. I can not beg for your attention Nor be content with your last exhausted minutes
Ever feel that you're good As long as you give As long you never need?
Silly poem about pimples
The spotty face stares back at me On the chin alone I count more than three.
I'm tired of being that thing that you dispise. I'm tired of being loved by everyone but you.
Lots of tears
Lots of tears And lots of hurt, Little droplets in the dirt. Terrible ache,
Bloody Petals In my palm I had promised You no harm.
I'm tired. I've tried it, But have left you uninspired. Maybe i'm not what you admired
What he expects
Expensive toys Cheap thrills I cook, i clean, He pays the bills.
Thank you for this wedding ring, And all the joy it promised to bring. I thank you for this house we share, Even though you're barely there.
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
I've never trusted happiness.
We've never quite been friends.
And everytime that my heart breaks,
It never really mends.
I wrote these words so long ago
And yet they still hold true.
This heart can hold no happiness.
The love just falls right through.