Beyond Ireland Edited

 Beyond Ireland

Red shades of light,

Fragrance garden- sweet,

Dancing shadows in the distance

To an unknown beat.

I sing to thee--

Places far away,

A different time:

Swords clinking,

Steel in practice.

Laughter rings sweet.

Young maidens whispering secrets,

Giggling children play--

What melody is this?

Sleepless nights,

Weary eyes,

Shutting tight.

in Everwood's land,

Still holding hands.

A new day,

a new song,

a new way.

Dream, dream my sweet children

for tomorrow is yet to be.

By: Bernice Bowling.

A hoarders Home Edited

 Pile on , pile on--

I heap, I move, I stack.

more and more I gather,

saving and crying 

all the while.

no room to tidy,

no room to store, 

yet still,

I gather more--

like squirrel storing for a winter 

that will never come.

I keep storing. 

come clean, come rearrange

move one pile here, 

another there--

Only to bring it back again.

My mountain rises,

year by year.

I sit atop a cluttered throne,

looking down, 

blaming this mess 

On anyone but my own. 

"Throw it away!" you say.

I say, "no way,"

And cry forevermore.

Clinging to ever drop of jumble,

In this chaos I make my home.

Trying my best to clear away--

But never throwing anything out,

Just saving,

 Pretending.

That I am okay.   

By: Bernice Bowling

My Daddy’s Girlfriend and the Adoption

 My daddy’s girlfriend and the Adoption

I have few memories of the first girlfriend my daddy ever had. Her name was Pauline. Daddy lived across the street from me. It never occurred to me that my family was a bit strange or odd. That is up until the day I was visiting daddy. I don’t remember how it happened, but I know I was talking about mommy for some reason, and Pauline stood up and said, she’s not your mommy. I am and said that’s not true. You’re lying. She kept insisting that it was true. I can only picture her in the outfit she always seemed to wear, which was a red pants suit with white polka dots that she had made. It’s in all of the pictures I have of her, so when looking back, this is what I always picture with her puffy big black hair. Standing there in my daddy’s living room in the apartment over the garage telling me she was my mom. I didn’t believe her for a second, and I would go ask mommy to prove it. Mommy was always right, and she never lied. I was furious!

That very day when I went home, I ran up to mommy, and I said Do you know what Pauline did, and mommy said what I said? She said that you weren’t my mother and that she was. Mommy said she is your mother. She gave birth to you, but I am your real mother because I adopted you, and I am the one raising you. I was shocked and a little disappointed because I always pictured myself as a biological child of my grandmothers. I was just a little thing, not hardly even 5 years old, and I didn’t understand how these things worked. So my dad’s mom was my grandmother or adopted mom. Right then and there, I knew the mom I always had known before was just my mom and nothing else, and Pauline was just Pauline. She didn’t feel like a mom to me and never did. I don’t mean any harm to anyone reading this who gets offended. I am just writing this as I remember. There’s more to come, much more.

The First Day of Kindergarten

 The First Day of Kindergarten

Looking back I remember in the very, early years of childhood being filled with love and feeling such confidence. Family were always close. I felt so important like I was the center of the universe, and love wrapped around me like a warm blanket on a cozy winter day. It was a perfect world, and my mother was the author of it. She was my world. Wherever she was at I felt safe. My mother was perfect, I was perfect and my world was perfect.

That all changed on my first day of Kindergarten. I had never been to school before. I had no idea I would have to even go to such a foreign place. I felt as if I was being sent off to war in a scrap yard where wild animals and vicious tigers roamed. I was so scared. The very foundation I was standing on had been shaken and shaken hard. There were loud voices coming in every direction and chaos abounded. I was suddenly aware of my weight, my hair, my clothes, my very insignificance, and of course, my lack of ability to make friends. My world was now inside my head, and it was just the beginning.

Strangers seemed to peer at me, inspecting me as if I were a bug. The chatter continued for what appeared to be a lifetime. The grown-ups had all left now, and I was alone with these Martians. Then somewhere in the room, a cry was heard, a loud shattering cry. Another child screaming with big massive elephant-sized tears running down their face. That's when I felt their pain. It was like my own, and I was crying too.

The day went by, and soon it was time to go home. Daddy had come to pick me up. I don't remember much about what happened after that day, but I do remember mommy asking me how my day went and what all happened, and I told her I cried, and she asked me why did I cry, and I said because the other kids were crying and so I cried too. Then we both looked at one another, and we started laughing. I realized that I had not needed to cry and that I had only cried because I had felt the other kids' emotions. Sure I was scared and didn't want to be there, but I was not a crier. I was my daddies child, and I was tough. That's when I got the devastating news that I was not done with school. I had to go back to that awful place for many days to come. I remember being so angry because of that, but the next day when I went back. I remembered my mother and me laughing over yesterday's events, and I never cried that day or any other day over having to go to school. I just went after all mommy had told me if I didn't, they would put them in jail, and I never wanted that. So I sucked it up and went.

My child My child edited

Umbra swims in murky waters

old castles crumble

beneath the grime.

Silent cries

fill the night—

birds in motion,

though they do not fly—

caged and imprisoned

where invisible bars collide.

Demon tongues chide,

while ballads and ditties embrace.

Vespers whisper:

O Creator Divine,

hear my cry—

Come save us now

from this

storm of mine.

By: Bernice Bowling

I died today edited

 I died today.

My heart began to bleed.

something squeezed it--

it began to crumble.

I wheezed, clutching my knees.

I curled up.

I died.

The sky was dark.

A storm was brewing.

I was unaware, 

Unprepared.

Lighting struck,

Thunder exploded,

I died,

 laying on the ground.

Blood poured.

Strangers passed–

No one seemed to notice.

Bruised, and torn,

I lay there dying.

Screams emerged.

Anger roared,

Separations came.

I cried,

Sleeping in the dirt.

I died today,

My heart in my hand.

 By: Bernice Bowling

A million tears Edited

I Cried a Million Tears

I cried a million tears

And watched them fade away—

Never knowing, day by day,

What might come my way. 

I thought of suicide 

More times than I can count,

Each year passing

Feeling like nothing would ever change.

I cried a million tears

And watched them fade away.

One Morning, I was laughing

I packed my bags and left–

Just for a little while,

To give myself some rest. 

I cried a million tears

And left them on the ground.

Things get better year by year,

But sorrow still remains.

Nothing is ever perfect–

But atleast, it didn’t stay the same. 

I cried a million tears

And watched them fade away. 

Suicide still lives in my mind,

Just not every day. 

My mother is gone, 

My papaw and daddy too.

I cried a million tears

And watched them buried in the ground. 

Years have passed;

My sorrow is softer now.

But new devils still appear.

I cried a million tears

And still watch them fade away.

Roses still have thorns, 

And joy walks hand in hand with pain. 

Yes, I cry a million tears–

But God washes everyone away. 

By: Bernice Bowling