Family
There aren't many poems that have to do with family,
but I plan on adding more as I write them or get them.
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Mother
Mother is a sacred name, but some people bring it nothing but shame.
My mom was never there for me, and this is the truth I see.
She didn't care what I had to say, and she hurt me deeply in this way.
I never realized the love I had for her, and now it is all nothing but a blur.
She slowly started to fade away, I wish she could just stay.
One day she went away forever, for me to say, "I Love You!" Never.
Now I carry this sacred name and I try very hard not to bring it shame.
I understand right from wrong even though it hasn't been that long.
As more time goes by, I mourn my loss as I weep and cry.
I just wish people understood this sacred name, and did not bring it such shame.
----------------------------With Bitter Sweet Love Always, Kristina Brown--------------------------------
The Role of a "Mother"
Mothers should be there for you every single day,
and when all your worries are up they know just what to say.
They let you know your loved, and that they're behind you in all you do,
So I guess you're not a true mother, cause I do not get that from you.
You're supposed to stand behind me, you're supposed to understand.
and when I'm drowning in all my doubt, you're supposed to lend a hand.
Instead when I ask a question, you turn your back to me.
And just because you do that, you'll never truly see,
All the pain you cause me, in everything you do,
I never said I expected the world, but I expected something from you.
If you want to know what you gave me, it's a lifetime of suffering and pain.
It's knowing when I think of you, I'm filled with shadows and shame.
You think you taught me how to deal, and also how to fight.
But if I were to say you did, I know it wouldn't be right.
If you really want to know, you taught me how to hate.
and because of the person you've become, fear and bitterness will be my fate.
---------------------------------------Kara Miller---------------------------------------------
Daddy.
There are so many things I need to say to you.
About how you hurt us by never being there.
About your controlling mother who had you by her apron strings.
About how our family is nothing but a shared surname.
And they're all inside me, swirling in a chaotic mess
of anger and sadness and hurt. So many things.
Because now you're fifty and it's like you're still five.
You just don't see what you do to me and.
And if you do, why don't you care?
When are you going to grow up and be your own man
instead of your mother's son?
You call me your little girl but I've grown up. I'm an adult.
I think we both know who's little here.
And I would tell you these things
if I knew that telling you would make it different,
if telling you would make you different.
If I could rid these things from my soul,
if I could show you my pain and make you understand what you've done--
it would hurt you like hell.
Though you've fought in wars, been wounded by bullets,
and earned medals for your courage,
you have never known such suffering as mine:
The slow death of a heart by the man who, in a brief moment of love,
gave it life.
--------------------------Unknown-------------------------------
My best friend is not a person who will run and tell my secrets to anybody.
She will hold my secrets inside her head no matter what encourages her to
let them out.
She will not laugh at me if I answer a question wrong.
Or if I trip and go tumbling down ten steps in front of a lot of people.
She will not discourage me if I'm struggling with something. Or tell me an idea I have is stupid.
She will not tell me that my dreams will never come true. That I can never be what I want to be.
She will always encourage me to try my very best and she will continue to teach me every day.
My best friend is not a girlfriend who will come and go throughout my life.
My best friend is my mother.
She is not only my mother, however. She is my teacher, my role model, and my life.
Most importantly she is my best friend.
------------------------------------------------Unknown----------------------------------------------------
Mom, I just want to say!
You have taught me everything ~
That I really need to know ~
You've given me my faith ~
And you've surely touched my soul ~
You're my very best friend ~
One I can always trust ~
You've helped me with my problems ~
That confuse me so very much ~
I try each day to tell you ~
Just how much I care ~
And I will always remember ~
The memories we share ~
No matter what my feelings ~
And whatever I may say ~
I will love you forever ~
Through each and every day
-----------------------------Kara Miller----------------------------
Mother Dearest
I look around and hope that I'll find others,
and that I'm not the only, lonely girl with a neurotic mother.
But none seem quite as dysfunctional as mine, I have to say.
At first I thought, "Oh well. She'll get over it."
And then I got annoyed when she didn't.
And then I got pissed off when she still hadn't.
And now my pulse throbs in my ears,
my muscles tremble with rage, my stomach gurgles with excess acid,
and I'm so angry I could vomit.
In her twisted understanding she misunderstands, that instead of drawing me close, I'm pushing, kicking, clawing
AWAY! AWAY! AWAAAAAY! Screaming, "Go to hell!"
And yet you garner sympathy, even mine sometimes.
The mother who gave all, if you think money is everything
(Because some things are easier to give than others).
Oh, but I'll give credit where credit is due: your sage advice.
"Study hard. Do good." You call that good advice?
As if any half-assed inbred shit-for-brains cretin couldn't have figured THAT much out.
But it's so much easier said than done, isn't it, mother?
Go to hell, mother, and take your care and concern
into the flaming inferno with you--I've no want of them.
Know that you're carrying me right out of your life
so quickly that you'd forget I ever was if it weren't for the stretch marks on your belly,
the sad reminder of a daughter who failed you because she left home at 16 in search of better things
(Who knows if she found them), and of ways to escape your tyranny (Who knows if she found them).
What's that, mother? I'm on the cordless. I can't hear you. You're having a heart attack?
Maybe you should be in a record book: woman who's survived the most heart attacks.
Or woman who's faked the most heart attacks.
Because you seem to have one every time things don't go exactly as you'd like.
So if the pain radiates down your left arm, hold the phone in your right.
Or even better, Call 911, And leave me the FUCK alone!
----------------------------unknown--------------------------------