Lonely Child

To be forsaken and lonely

All night long in the dark

Where thoughts and pains creep.

The parents fight uncontrollably

The storm wept angry tears.

Come morning light, fog trails everywhere.

The lonely child put out into the mist of the fog forsaken yet again.

Written By: Rhonda Kendrick

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Giving Gratitude

Giving Gratitude

As we go about our day to day life we forget to give gratitude for the things that we sustain. While we walk in our faith it aspires us to set in that domain. People that have

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a family to call their own, whether blood or by choosing needs to stop and give thanks, for some are only solitary. As some open the newspaper and read over the classifieds he or she’s in the obituaries. While family, friends and guests set at the dinner tables to eat, scavengers are looking for their next morsels. Now as everyone hurries to their warm homes, the homeless are wondering around the streets and the situation is desperately awful. We all need to stop and really think, it’s a gift to even wake up when we go to sleep. Now let’s  give thanks
continuously each and everyday for what we have, sorry now I must weep!!

Written By:Rhonda Kendrick  (c)

A Thanksgiving Poem

A THANKSGIVING POEM!!

May our Turkey be juicy and plump
May our dressing be tasty and crisp
May our potatoes be whipped and buttery
May our gravy have nary a lump
May our greens be cooked with bacon grease
May our snaps be cooked with ham hocks
May our macaroni and cheese be enough to go around
May our  deviled eggs not be so gassy
May our yams be delicious and sweet
May our yeast rolls rise nice

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and high
May our pies be topped with whipped cream
May our cakes take the prize
Last but not least May our Thanksgiving Dinner stay off our waist and our thighs!!

Written By: Rhonda Kendrick  (c)

BROKEN HEART

BROKEN  HEART

MY heart dropped and shattered to the ground as my virtue was stripped from my womb. The tears rolling down my cheeks for this now broken heart of mine, it was just too

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much at 8 to consume. The blood started to run down my thighs between my parted legs, my eyes opened wider looking down at my flower with horror. How could a father be such a fabricator? I got up and went running to the bathroom, to shower, with my fears in my throat. At my age all I wanted was someone to hold me tight and tell me all will soon be alright, but for now my heart is crying bittersweet tears. Now clean and sore and red to the touch, I wrapped a towel around me, went to ask for some clothes, because mine was bloody. He said I don’t have  any you will have to  wear them, so he took me back home looking like a corpse. Mother was at work,  she would never know that I went missing during the night. He said I had better not tell or no one will even see the light.

Written By:  Rhonda Kendrick  (c)