Children have different memories
Of parents who pass away.
While some will forgive freely,
Others remain bitter each day.
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When my son was five years old, we bought him a toy car that was battery operated and had 'bump-and-go' features. After a few hours of play, we discovered he had dismantled it and removed the tiny windshield, and when we asked him why, he said 'I wanted to see the tiny man driving it.' He grew up to be an artist and is now a Senior Creative Graphic Arts executive.
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How I wish I could write
That life's a bed of roses,
It's not one hell of a fight
With ugly wounds and bloody noses,
...
Was born with this quaint skill
But blessed in my perplexity
I use both hands which I feel
Explains the Creativity.
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In the depths of my despair
Drowned by endless nagging tears
My life in pain was laid bare
So lost in mounting fears.
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As Dawn unveils light
Precious little diamonds
Touch leaves and petals.
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I cannot discuss in poetic form
Medical lingo about heart aliments
Nor can I even attempt to inform
Legal aspects to any court clients.
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Oh he wants me to stop
Writing poetry for nothing
He'd love to see me drop
This pen for other things.
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My Superman series had Bizzarro in it
Spiderman originals, Archie and Friends
It was an addiction, I must admit
But hours of reading fun, they did commend.
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