Poem to my Brothers

 POEM TO MY BROTHERS

by Rachel Roberts 2014

Harsh, hard, hateful

That’s a brother

Caring, helpful, loving

That’s a brother

I have six

I know how they are

One is a writer

A kind heart

A man with words  

One is a worker

A teaser

A man that can shoulder any burden

One is a learner

A mathematician

          A man with knowledge

One is an animal tamer

An imaginer

A man with the tongue of beasts

One is a creator

A friend

A man with artists’ eyes

One is just too little

 Too young to be a man just yet

Yes, I know how brothers are

None exactly the same

Loud, quite, mean, nice

That’s a brother.

The Texture of hope

 

The Texture of Hope

by Rachel Roberts

3/25/2015

Hope

It's soft and warm

like the fur of a cat,

warmed by the fire.

It is like ocean waves,

always coming back 

at the least expected time.

It is solid like a tree,

rooting you to the ground.

Hope.

Watching my mother

Watching my mother

by Rachel Roberts 5/2014

Ever since I was young I have watched her, my mother.
.

I have watched her hold babies, her arms forming a cradle of love.

With bright innocent diamond eyes, I have watched her clean weeping wounds

With curious hands I have helped her cook and clean for our needy house.

With listening and hopeful ears I have heard her sing, cry, and comfort her family

I have often wondered if I will ever be a mother as she is to me.

I want someday to have a glowing little jewel of a girl

Who will see me as the Angel, super hero, and friend I see in my mother.

Who will tell me her darkest secrets and worst heart breaks.

And to get this, a family, a little girl, and happiness, I need only watch my mother.

Watch her cook and clean for my needy house.

Watch her work till her eyes dreamy from deprived sleep, but still tells us she loves us.

She is my Rock, holding me up when my life becomes a whirlwind

She tells me she wants me to be wise, strong, and joyful.

I'll answer, "I'll watch you my mother, I will watch you."

My Father's Light

My father’s light

by Rachel Roberts

2014

Cold, dark, consuming 
is this wood where I stand.

Alone without a soul to be found

I started on the path 
but somehow lost my way.

Running now heart pounding, legs on fire, 
I can find another path.

But I trip and I’m even deeper in this cold

Darkness of a wood.

The path was not cold or dark. 

It was light and hope.

Hope that someday I would find home.

Home where father and mother are.
 
Home were brothers and sisters are.
Where is the path? Will I ever find it again?

But I know I’m not good enough,

Too late for me, 
I’ll just stay here in the Darkness alone. 
Because I’m good enough.

Sobbing, broken, when a voice fills me.

Just a mere whisper on the wind, no more.

“Come child” it says kindly, “don’t despair, follow.”

Light appears, a round light, a leading light

I follow the light back through the cold darkness.

 The light leads me back to the path, it’s always strait.

Always narrow, always safe, always calm,

And I start anew on the path walking home.

I will fall again but I know my fathers light, 
the light of my fathers love, 
will always guide me back.

Because the path leads home.

Yin and Yang

YIN and YANG

by Rachel Roberts

 

My sister and I are yin and yang

She is as neat as a pin

While, I’m a bull in a china shop

She is my shadow

My better half

I have memories as sweet as candy

Like a warm summer days

Tasting a cherry Popsicle on my tongue

Me talking, her listening

My sister and I are yin and yang

She likes sitting quietly

 And listening with interested ears

While I like to talk and tell

With a mouth that jabbers

I have memories of singing

 On dark nights

Her quite words mingling with my loud

My sister and I are yin and yang

She like a soft eyed doe, skittish and silent

Me like a roaster in the early morning, 

crowing to the world

My sister and I are yin and yang

But that does not mean I love her

My shadow

My comfort

My yin

My father

 

My Father

by Rachel Roberts

I have a man in my life

Who has taught me more

Than most and loved me more

Than any

He has taught me

Math that makes

My head want to fall off 

He has loved me

Enough to take

Me to hot and dry

Deserts and tall

Mountain’s tops

 

He has taught me

Boys are best Avoided

I’m still not

Sure he is right

Some days I am none

Too happy with him

Some days I know

He is my best friend

But I’m always his

Girla

I’m his girla because

He has treated me

As such

In a crew of motley

And rude brothers

When I’m brought

To tears he is there

To love me and treat

Me like a lady

Love my sweet

Father, dad, and friend

Love your girla