Is It Poetry
Welcome To A Poet's Love-My Daughter - Poem by Is It Poetry
Welcome to A Poet's Love-My Daughter lived to Tell;
Three shrouded days, cloud wrapped you were
while names like stars went through the sky.
Like flamingo dawn that knew the sun as one.
I watched your mother's pain as if it were my own.
Fists clenched hard knuckles white breath drawn,
teeth grinding down hill untill, you came like storm of fury
in a rush of mist, flowing swiftly down as if Niagara's falls.
American is Caroline thou ar't welcome be,
your middle name is that first name
of England's Mother in the year she reigned
of our 'Lord' hath,
numbered be 'two thousand ought and three'.
Hear try this it pains her so, don't pull to hard
little wolf and born with teeth unlike most my 'dear'
or scrape your hungry little mouth nor teat you tear.
No accidental tryst were you and union made in name.
No board rooms follies nor jousting matches, paused
I rubbed the belly of that beast untill each union
made her swelled each moon was full untill that night
the rain it fell untill you came and showed the world.
I would have ask you if I could, strange questions though
Foolish quest of knowledge yes it dwells in me as well.
What was it like inside the source, did you have to wait
Is the world to you again now what he said it was to you.
Inside the sea of foam was there a light you saw us from.
From where it is mine came that brought me here a feast
considered is potatoes, hills of beans...now rest my 'dear'.
Does your belly get the meat you need to grow.
I came from ice and snow each rock it breathed as the
steam brought forth the waters that we call mead.
Deep from that well inside the earth we all call home.
Inside your heart the 'clan' few 'Mc's are let now free to roam.
Most call us 'crazy'..long ago 'berserkers' breaking down
the wooden halls of kings, your are from such green 'moss'
you are of a daughter, that you may now know, I call my own.
Comments about Welcome To A Poet's Love-My Daughter by Is It Poetry
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You