Uncle John

"Uncle John"

{I wrote this the night before he died.}

Why do I cry

When he isn't yet gone?

Why do I cry

When he is a good man?

Why do I cry

When I know where he is going?

Why do I cry?

You tell me.

Uncle John

was strong and handsome.

Uncle John

was kind and true.

Uncle John

was thoughtful and just.

Uncle John

was creative too.

Then

the speech slowed.

Then

the world shook.

Then

the brain tumor.

Then

the other one.

This happened

to the man who brought me towels.

This happened

to the man who carried my luggage.

And now he's withering away

A life can shatter in 9 months.

The Perfect Girl

The Perfect Girl 

By Catherine L.H.

{inspired by gene therapy } 

I am the perfect girl.

At least, that’s what they all tell me.

The girl with the perfect face.

The perfect eyes.

The perfect hair.

The perfect figure.

But they don’t understand

That I’m broken inside.

Science created me – the perfect girl.

They sought perfection

They created me

“The perfect girl”

They all stare.

They all sigh.

They all envy.

I don’t know why.

I am not perfection.

I was a scientific toy.

They don’t see me.

They look, but don't see past my body.

They stare and gawk

But they don’t see me.

Who was I meant to be?

Before the tests?

Before the scans?

Before the modifications?

Did I have a big nose?

Did I have brown hair?

Did I have my mother’s eyes?

Did I have a mother?

They have never told me

Who I am.

I am the perfect girl -

The most imperfect girl alive.

When you look at the word upside down

When you look at the world upside down

By C.L.H.

{imagined as a song}

Looks like everybody's gonna' fall

Any second - Their gonna' fall

Into the sky

From where I can see

People all around me 

Gonna fall into the sky

When you look at the world

Upside down

It changes how you see things 

Changes all the meanings

When you look at the world 

Upside down

I see black hearts and broken

Words left unspoken

Rather terrifying 

I see hideous hearts, and lust sparks

Who knew the world could be so dark?

Rather terrifying

When you look at the world 

Inside out

It changes how you see things

Changes all the meanings

When you look at the world

Inside out

Like little ants we wander

Not taking time to ponder

About this life

Everywhere we always strive

Don't care the cost- to keep alive

And then what?

When you look at the world 

All around 

It changes how you see things

Changes all the meanings 

When you look at the world 

All around

Upside down, an' inside out, an' all around

Changes- it changes the view

When you look at the world 

Through His eyes

It changes how you see things

Changes all the meanings

When you look at the world

Through His eyes

September 11th 2001

Today I found a poem I wrote in 2011 when I was 15. After seeing a documentary about the terrorist attacks on that fateful day I wrote this poem. The documentary focused on two men named Pablo and Frank who saved many lives and lost their own. 

September 11, 2001

Armed with cruel hate

Against America the great

Crashing plane after plane

They all were insane

What did we do? You ask

To deserve that fatal task

We must all know

What ten years ago

Happened in that city.

The terrorists we don't pity.

Cast down like a hive

Those thousands of lives

Took the toll of the bell

When those buildings fell

The crash was so loud it was quiet.

There was no time for riot.

Two guys called Pablo and Frank

Many wish they could thank

Over 72 

Lives started a new

For their wondrous acts of kindness.

Pablo & Frank were mindless

Of a possible selfish thought

Which Satan would have bought.

Those men were two of many

I wish I had a penny

For everyone who died

And every tear cried

Then I would give it to

All the families who

Had lost loved ones that day.

This is not all I could say

About our horrid world we live in

It is corrupt because of sin.

Come to the light

And dwell in His might

Who knew you before there was time.

Let us never forget.

Unheard

Unheard

By Catherine H. 

If someone moves in darkness

With no one there to see

Are they there at all?

Alone in naked starkness

Content as could be

Are they there at all?

A sudden pain disrupts

The easy status quo

Are they there at all?

Unnatural chaos erupts 

A life is taken so 

Are they there at all? 

A million voices 

Silenced --

Abortion.

Freedom Strings

Freedom Strings

By C.L.Haws

For weeks I’d practice

In the dark of night

Guilty of malpractice

Guilty out of spite

My fingers silently played

Not daring to make a sound

One more night I prayed

The Silencers all around

Performance day

Not significant now

Once a holiday

With lights as a show

I step into the square

Where a lone pole stands

Hurriedly I prepare

Before they bind my hands

Violin in place

I peel note one

Every face

To me spun

I played a song

Forbidden

But how could it be wrong?

Silencers wanted it hidden

Notes of stars & stripes

A banner spangled white

In past days stripped

From the pole to my right

People in the square

Open their mouths to sing

A battle they prepare

Let freedom ring

Though all tongues

Were cut

Sound produced by lungs

By Silencers can’t be shut

In time with violin

Wordless voices chimed

Silencers walked in

Not a voice dimmed

We all were taken

To the square’s other side

Goodness forsaken

A rope hung with pride

One by one

Singers fell

Leaving none

But me to tell

Saintly Sinner

Saintly Sinner

By C.L.H.

 

I'm the kid of Churchianity

An A+ in Sunday School

The conqueror of sword drills

With a Bible case that is cool

 

Proud of my humility

Boasting of my meekness

Spotting all others' ills

Nothing was my weakness

 

Then God came in like a freight train

Opened my downcast eyes to see

I'm just a saintly sinner

One with the Pharisees

 

Stubbornly patient

A servant in the lime light

10% paid in full

My covered candle burning bright

 

Me the omnipotent

Groveling in my victory

Resisting the pull

Of my Savior on me

 

Then God came in like a freight train

Opened my downcast eyes to see

I'm just a saintly sinner

One with the Pharisees

 

God why do you still love me?

This saintly sinner gone astray

I'm worthless without you

But you continue to stay

 

I know you've got a life for me

And golden streets my future holds

Take me, make me more like you

Fire me in your mold

 

God, come in like a freight train

Open my downcast eyes to see

Take this saintly sinner

And make me more like Thee.

 



My Daddy

My Daddy

By C. L.H.

Never was a Daddy so silly.

Never was a Daddy so dandy.

Never did a Ted, Frank, or Billy

Beg so for a piece of candy.

Never does this Daddy dance.

Off key does this Daddy sing.

Loudly does this Daddy prance-

For what reason?  Not a thing!

Never was a Daddy so nice.

Never was a Daddy so thrifty

And when Daddy looks at the price

The cent marks best not exceed fifty!

Never does Daddy complain

When looking at himself.

Daddy does love to entertain!

My Daddy is so like myself!

Fall

Fall

By C.L.H.

An artist’s hand

Silently rights

A glass full of sand.

Colors turn bright,

Harden throughout

And drop in the night.

A chilling shout

Carried along

Fills one with doubt.

Will sweet song

Again, so softly,

Come with its throng? 

Before the Curtain Rises

Before the Curtain Rises

By C. H.

A hush, louder than a roaring wind,

winds its way deep into many.

Breaths come shallow.

Eyes stare expectantly into the dark.

A chilling wait, like a thousand years,

freezes those eager for action.

Behind the ancient red barrier,

thespians’ costumes are perfect.

Hairspray galore!

Everyone’s waiting, though not all reasons

are the same. I’m excited for one.

It’s familiar territory.

We hope as one the acts all go well.

Minutes before, some legs were broke.

No luck for us.

I breathe deep. My mind clears and fills with thoughts

so familiar, rehearsed, almost stale.

I’m no longer myself outside.

The Beach

The Beach

By C.L.H.

A million bodies

Flow and

Rip {ple}. Tides

Go in and out daily.

Sand

Pipers skitter

Along sandy

Slopes,

Leaving behind

Little feet

Marks. Of people,

One can say

There are two kinds:

S{p}oiled ones

And ones who love

The beach.

The Sir

(Best when read out loud)

The Sir

   C.L.H.

      This specimen

                     I interest in

                           Its qualities abound.

                                               Upon solid ground

                                                                 Its sole transportation

                                                                                     With some speculation

                                                                             Was discovered in

                                                                Its long abdomen.

                                               Sparkling scales

                             Skyrocketing sales 

           Surround a slender

                 Skeleton. An expert blender

                                      In its habitat

                                            Slithering slyly this way & that.

                                                                        Silently slipping

                                                                                      Into the Mississipping

                                                                                            Out of sight

                                                                 So as not to cause fright

                                            To an innocent bystander.

                            While some slander

                 “Goodness sake”

                               You can count on the snake.