"Mother's Ribbons" poem by Abigail Alexis~

~For my Mother who always did the best she knew how~

My mother was blissful, the day I was born,
and out of her hair, came the ribbon she'd worn,
Tied to a rattle, it stayed while I grew,
Looking so pretty, all silky, and new...

When I began walking, my mom sewed a dress,
and under the collar, in a bow, on the breast,
She attached that silk ribbon, no longer brand new,
But still my pride, all pretty and blue.

School days came, as I had grown tall,
I wanted my ribbon, but the dress was too small,
Mother lovingly snipped my ribbon, in two,
And attached each to it's own shoe.

To many new shoes, my ribbons I tied,
And then to my new bike, I was given to ride,
As I'd pedal faster, my ribbon would whirl,
tied to the handle bars, the blue silk would twirl.

College passed quickly..., and I met a boy,
Who's happiness was my every joy,
Before I knew it, I was his shy bride,
Wearing my ribbons, as I stood at his side.

When I became Mom, of not one, but two,
Twins opened their eyes, all silky and blue,
The love of a mother, two fold, had been passed,
And I knew, Mother's ribbons, in their souls... had been cast.

"Magical Magic Me" poem by Abigail Alexis~

Oh magic, magical me,
Unwind your golden tail,
Why must you hide away,
Unfurl your wondrous sail,
Dance on mystical oceans,
Walk on make believe seas,
Sail the dreams I wake for you,
Wake inside of me,
Open up my inner eyes,
Close those doors of doubt,
Spin for me a tale of tales,
Let your magic out,
Touch me with your fairy dust,
Douse from head to toe,
Lace me with your golden touch,
Let your magic flow,
Carry me so far away,
That I get lost in thee,
Weave for me a magical world,
Magical, magic me.

"Black and White" poem by Abigail Alexis~

Im not the smartest person,
I didnt go to school,

Maybe Im not stylish,
Maybe I'm not cool.

I cannot say I am rich,
Or beautiful, or wise,

maybe I don't hold respect,
In your parents eyes.

I know that I'm a dreamer,
and rarely dreams come true,

and maybe I'm not sensible,
and that seem strange to you.

I don't hold any status.
I don't have a degree.

I know your friends have teased you,
for even being seen with me.

But what if I was all these things,
What would that define?

Would that make me generous?
Would that make me kind?

Would you really love me more,
If I I could read or write?

If, instead of dreaming,
I only saw in black and white?

Would I be a better person?
Would it make me great?

Would it make you happier?
If numbers I could calculate?

If others thought me ravishing?
Or I held a PhD ?

Would I be more worthy?
Would it bring you dignity?

I do not know the answers,
only questions to ask you,

But I know that I am special,
...and that my love is special to.

"Fly Away With Me" poem and illustration by Abigail Alexis~

I saw this little bird,
who was sitting in a tree,
and I asked the little bird,
if he would fly away with me.

He said that we could fly away,
But that the year was late,
Yet in the spring, he'd come for me,
So by the window wait.

And so I waited patiently,
as the days passed by.
Grains sparkled on the distant hills,
and love bugs filled the sky.

Red and amber leave did fall,
Twirling past my face.
Chilly winds swept my hair,
as fall took summer's place,


Winter winds, did bight my nose,
as snow blew cold and fast.
Icicles began to melt,
as to, the winter passed,

Then on a wondrous day of spring,
when first buds start to bloom,
a little bird, landed on,
the window of my room.

And on his back,I flew away,
but if you ask me to,
on a sunny summer's day,
I will come back for you.

Poem I wrote in my dreams...

"Oh Little Rose" poem by Abigail Alexis~

Oh little rose, who grows on a vine,
My heart is like, that gate you climb,
Leaves, and petals, my hearts entwined,
Oh little rose, who grows on a vine,

Oh little rose, lips so red,
Dreams of your kisses, do dance in my head,
Blossom with joy, say you'll be thine,
Oh little rose, Who grows on a vine,

Oh little rose, which way will you grow ?
Do you need me?, like water ? Do tell me so.
Tell me you want me, that you will be true,
Oh little rose, so lovely and new,

Oh little rose, let not your thorns stick,
My heart may burst, If they do prick,
Your touch, like petals, your soft embrace,
Like fresh morning tears, kissing my face.

Oh little rose, beyond all compare,
Dreams hang like dew, pearls in your hair,
Come on and kiss me, say you'll me mine,
Oh little rose, who grows on a vine.

"Blue Bird Pie" Poem story by Abigail Alexis~

~Dedicated to my brother, Sabbath, who's smile could be seen from the top of even the tallest trees.You will always be in my heart. I love you. ~

One day, little Amram,
Climbed up a tree,
To see all around,
All the world he could see,

Up, up through the branches,
Through the tangle of leave,
while the wind, wiped his hair,
with a warm summer breeze,

He climbed with a purpose,
For never, had he,
Scaled to such heights'
As this sycamore tree,

As his little legs pushed,
And his little hands pulled,
On his chubby round face,
a smile took hold,

Satisfaction was great,
But his heart gave a stop,
As he pulled himself up,
to the tree's tippy top,

For their, on the branch,
All shiny and new,
Was the biggest of eggs,
All speckled and blue,

He let out a yelp.
For he never did see,
An egg of such size,
In a sycamore tree,

But to Amram's surprise,
The egg yelped, right back,
With a peep, and a pop,
The blue egg gave a crack,

Out came a foot,
All speckled and blue,
Then came a head,
All fuzzy and new,

But a bird? It was not,
Least not one liked he'd seen,
The head, had no beak,
but two ears, of bright green,

Two big shinny eyes,
and little sharp teeth,
and fuzzy blue hair,
Above and beneath,

Big eyes stared at Ram,
And Ram stared back,
unable to run,
should this creature attack,

So he tried to hold still,
like a stick on the tree,
But is his legs were shaking,
so he bent to one knee,

Amram, backed down,
But the blue speckled feet,
Followed Ram,
As he tried to retreat,

He's heart was racing,
As he looked up to see,
Speckled blue feet,
Coming down the tall tree,

Ram scurried faster,
The feet scurried too,
They were very fast feet,
with claws sharp and blue,

Then a branch gave a snapped,
He could feel himself fall,
Down, down he went,
from the tree, straight and tall,

With a loud thud he landed,
A pain in his side,
He gave a sharp yelp,
As he scrabbled to hide,

He could hear the bark falling,
As it came down the tree,
And he didn't have time,
To rise up and flee,

So he curled himself up,
In a round ball,
and he covered his head,
and made himself small,

Then, PLOP !,something landed,
On top of his back,
soft and fuzzy,
But it did not attack,

Instead it puuuuuurrrrrrrd,
A long steady pur,
And rubbed up beside him,
With it's soft gentle fur,

Amram uncurled,
and rolled on his side,
And the blue fuzzy fur,
gave out a small sigh,

Ram curled his legs,
in the dry leaves he sat,
with the fur in his lap,
curled up like a cat,

It's green ears wiggled,
and it's eyes gave a blink,
Ram sat confused,
Not sure what to think,

Were ever a baby,
Blue fuzz, could be found,
Surely a mother,
Would soon be around,

So Amram stood up,
And he started to climb,
back up the tree,
to return his big find,

But how could he get,
this blue fuzz to stay,
He couldn't stay up in the tree,
All the day,

So Aram backed down,
Blue fuzz closely pressed,
In the nook of his arm,
Against his warm chest,

Ram was sure,
His mother would freak,
If he brought home a blue bird,
With green ears, and no beak,

But with no other choice,
Blue fuzz in his arm,
Amram headed home,
To his small country farm,

His Father had died,
The summer before,
So Amram's house,
Was simple, and poor,

When Amram reached home,
It was late in the day,
His mother had known,
He had gone out to play,

She was busily cooking,
The house smelled of pie,
His Father's favorite,
and Ram new why,

Her desserts, were amazing,
No one could deny,
His favorite being her,
Her blueberry pie,

Ram peeked in the kitchen,
Blue fuzz peeked in too,
His mother was busy,
sturring her stew,

Ram held his prize tightly,
but blue fuzz wanted down,
He wiggled away,
And jumped to the ground,

Amram turned pale,
And let out a cry
As the blue ball of fur,
Headed straight for mom's pie

Onto the pie,
Blue fuzz landed (splat)
And his Mom turned to see,
What she thought was a cat,

Her face red and flustered,
Her eyes fiery black,
Her mouth crinkle up,
But blue fuzz, just stared back,

Pie on his green ears,
Pie in his fur,
he licked off his blue speckled feet,
with a purrrrrrrrr,

Ram's mom stood speechless,
Unsure what to do,
She was holding a spoon,
That was dripping with stew,

Then her lips smiled,
And she giggled with glee,
At the blue speckled cat,
That had hatched in a tree,

Many days past,
And blue fuzz grew and grew,
Fat with pies,
And thick country stews,

He ate, and he ate,
And blue fuzz grew big,
Bigger then the neighbors,
Award winning pig,

It turned out,
Not only, did blue fuzz love pie,
But Blue fuzz liked all,
Of other food that he tried,

Blue fuzz ate more food,
Then Ram's mom could afford,
So Ram hatched a plan,
To pay his friends board,

They opened a dinner,
They and named it "Big Blue"
Were mom served up pies,
With her fresh country stews,

People would travel,
from far and wide,
To see big blue,
and eat food by his side,

Everyone loved,
Too have Blue around,
They loved his blue fur,
And his soft purring sound,

Year past by quickly,
Then one summer day,
Blue went out,
To the woods to play,

He never returned,
But Amram wasn't sad,
When he told people stories,
Of the tree cat he had,

Of course people ask,
What became, of his friend,
He laughs and replays
All birds fly... in the end.

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"With You" poem by Abigail Alexis~

There's a place I go to be happy- with you,

There's a place I go to be free - its with you,

And I really cant say why I love it so much-

Except, that it's when I'm with you,

There's a song I sing when I'm happy-with you,

There's a song I sing when I'm free- with you,

And I really can't say, why it sounds so sweet-

Except that I'm with you,

There's a dance I do when I'm happy-with you

There's a dance I do when I'm free- with you,

And I really can't say, why my feet feel on air-

Except that I'm with you,

There's a world that has no more sorrow-with you

There's a world were love is for free- with you

And I really can't say, why I love you so much,

Except that you love me too - with you

"Self Imprisonment" poem by Abigail Alexis~

I want to scream out,
I am SOMEONE, I'm ME,
and I know I'm not perfect,
But just leave me be,

I know that that's silly,
Cause you're not really here,
And chances are,
You don't even care,

It's me who's the driver,
and holding the whip,
But whatever I do
Insecurities grip,

I'm giving you power,
I've bled myself dry,
Hating my self,
'till I just want to die,

Some days are harder
And my wounds bleed more,
That you couldn't love me,
Burns straight to the core,

Cause I feel like I'm nothing,
I feel like I'm crap,
How you made me inside,
Time can't unwrap,

I need to believe,
Who I am is O.K.,
That it doesn't matter,
What you do, or you say,

Loving myself,
Is ultimate cure,
Respecting myself,
Feeling worthy and pure,

It matters so less,
What you think or you do,
Cause I've built this prison...
...and the key is not you.

"The Beggar" by Abigail Alexis~

A silent turning inside,
grating as it rolls,
Clawing at my subtle skin,
Leaving me bare and raw,
Raked and riped,
Somewhere, you are out there,
Maybe I don't even cross your mind,
Or bring it pause,
Just a distant memory to be flushed away,
Like old bath water,
It pains inside me,
The not knowing,
The wondering what if,
it drags me down deeper and deeper,
Till I feel crushed,
Crushed under the weight of my own despair,
A dry crust of bread left for mice to chew,
A pit, or rind,
I am but that,
I caress my naked bones and beg of them to fly,
Urge them to feel the wind beneath them,
To rise once more and walk,
I have fallen,
Dust beaten and broken I lay,
No one to console me,
No one I will let through my door,
All trust crumbled and fallen to dirt,
Like the dry brittle leaves of years past,
I beg for sleep,
endless sleep that will hold me forever,
Comfort me in its arms,
And take me away from this endless throbbing.

"Castles in the Sand" by Abigail Alexis~

Pillows damp with tears,
I don't want you to see,
How much I still miss you,
Or what you've done to me.

I don't want your pity,
Even though you left me dead,
You said that you loved me,
But you loved yourself instead.

If you loved me, you would not leave me,
You would never leave my side,
Till the day, I took my last breath,
Or until the day you died.

I know you think I'm foolish,
That, I do not understand,
But this fool, will ever dream of love,
Building castles in the sand.

‎"I AM" poem by Abigail Alexis~

I am a window,
I am a door,
I am a roof,
I am a floor,
I am a house,
I am a bed,
I am alive,
I am dead,
I am a book,
I am a toy,
I am a girl
I am a boy,
I am a "yes"
I am a "no"
I am stop,
I am go,
I am here,
I am there,
I'm in everything,
I am everywhere.

" The Traveler " poem by Abigail Alexis~

There once was a lonely young traveler,
Who's holes in his pants matched his shirt,
His face was dry from the sun,
And his shoes were all filled with dirt.

But he sang to himself as he traveled,
Along the dusty long road,
For tough he was poor, he was happy,
And the smile on his dry lips showed.

He whistled a tune, when his mouth went dry,
His throat too sore to sing,
Still happiness pooled in his heart,
Like an ever clear crystal spring.

Miles he walked, as the day grew bright,
Following the sun to the west,
With his sack on his back, he traveled on,
Though young legs ached for rest,


The sun rose high, it was nearly noon,
So deciding to stop for a bit,
Under the shade of a banyan tree,
He took off his pack to sit.

The moment his burdens hit the dust,
An old woman stepped into sight,
So suddenly had she appeared,
She gave the young man a fright.

Her back was bent, her fingers too,
And her hair, like old moldy hay,
The scarf on her head, was mended and patched,
And bleached by the suns hot ray.

It was clear to the young man, she could do him no harm,
So he bent and touched her dry feet,
"Mother" he said, "From were have you come.
And with what fine pleasure we meet?"

"I have come a long way."
The old woman replied, "And I've even father ahead,
But shoes, I need, for these feet are bare,
And I've walked 'til the bottoms have bled.


The young man looked at the old woman's feet,
Then at his old ragged shoes,
Slipping them off, he placed them in front,
Of the elderly feet that were bruised.

"Mother" he said, "Take them in trade for the blessing I need for this day,
For I too have a long way to go, ahead,
And a prayer I will need for my way."

The old woman smiled, as she slipped on the shoes,
Then turning she hobbled away,
The young man watched, 'till her shadow was gone,
And burned by the heat of the day.

The traveler sighed, then barefoot he sat,
In the cool spot beneath the big tree,
He leaned on the trunk, took off his hat,
And sat the pack on his knee.

His young back hurt, his poor stomach growled,
So he loosened the strings of his sack,
Knowing little, was left inside,
But he needed now a snack.

As he looked, in his bag, his cracked hands shook,
He couldn't believe what he saw,
For what was held, inside his pack,
Filled him with great awe.


The young man rose, dropping his bag,
Stunned he stumbled back,
For gold and jewels, diamonds and coins,
Lined each stitch of his sack,

"What is this" the traveler yelled,
Wondering of this trick,
He kicked the bag, picked up a branch,
And hit it with the stick.

The tattered bag let lose it's load,
Jewels scattered around,
Golden coins glistened bright,
Sparkling from the ground.

Half in shock, the young man stood,
A kings wealth at his feet,
A child's laugh, sang the words
" With what fine pleasure we meet? "

There before him, dressed in white,
A stately woman smiled,
Though her braided hair was gray,
She looked as if a child.

Not single a patch or hole,
Yet the traveler knew her face,
His shoes were there, upon her feet,
Though looking out of place.

The young man stared, at the change,
For now she looked not weak,
She bowed her head, smiled again,
And then began to speak,

"A blessing asked, is a blessing received,
Now traveler, go on your way"
With many long years, life your life,
In happiness I pray"

She picked up the treasure, tide the bag tight,
And handed the young man the sack,
Turning around, she hobbled away,
Never looking back.

The traveler did live, for many long years,
With many blessings of life,
He built a house, started a school,
And made a young teacher his wife,

When his children would set, upon his knee,
were he had opened the sack,
He'd teach them of happiness held in your heart,
When you give, and don't dwell on lack.

"A blessing given, is a blessing received"
His children chimed in to say,
And inside our traveler, Smiled and laughed,
As the sun set down on the day.

"Life's Seasons" by Abigail Alexis~

Each season has it's laughter,
each season has it's pain.
For every season, there's a lesson,
that makes you grow again.

Distant memories flicker,
like fireflies at night.
Sometimes bright and haunting,
Then black.. slip out of sight.

But what Ive lived, is in me.
and makes me what you see.
What I hide inside me,
and what I want to be.

Struggles make us wiser,
Cuts, and bruises sting.
But stronger they will forge you,
And confidence they bring,

And everyday I'm changing.
Shaped by what I know.
So many lessons I have lived,
So many left too know.

Some seasons go unnoticed,
Subtle, like the breeze,
A warm ray after winter,
A ripple on the seas.

Other changes come on sudden,
Tumultuous affairs,
Turbid like a waterfall,
Will humble you too prayers,

Whatever way the seasons come,
Whatever way they go,
We're left feeling different,
No choice but to grow.

Today, I woke up different,
Today I woke up free,
I felt a different person,
Except that I'm still me.