Posted in Daily Post Prompt, Free Verse Poetry, Inspirational Poems, Parenthood Poems, Poetry, Woman's Poetry, Word Prompt

Making Lemonade, a poem



My two youngest are in the kitchen
Making lemonade
A strange concoction
Of honey and lemon
with a bit of water
Sounds the song of approval
My little boy declares
It is delicious
Their best recipe yet
and he gulps it down
I can’t help but think
How we often miss out
In life’s simple pleasures
The treasures of life
But how
At the same time
We urge to get past them
As children
They live fully in the moment
No obstacle ever daunts them
They rarely sit and mope
About what they’ve been given
They try
They strive
They fall and then rise
They are beauty itself
And I am just a silent passenger
Watching and waiting
For the moment they will learn to fly.

© Sumyanna 2016


Beautiful image courtesy of

Submitted for The Daily Post Prompt: passenger

Posted in Daily Post Prompt, Free Verse Poetry, Inspirational Poems, Narrative Poetry, Parenthood Poems, Poetry, Thoughtful Poems, Woman's Poetry, Word Prompt

Learning to Overcome the Impossible, a poem



Mona sat down to help her daughter

she held the shoelaces in her hands

and guided her daughter

“See this loop?” she said

she held her daughters fingers

and gently traced the shape

so she could see

and daily, she would do this

teaching her daughter skills

that would come so easy for many

but there was a thrill she held in her heart

as she watched her daughter

do things for herself

and learn to be more independent.

It is never easy,

raising a child to be strong on their own

there is always the strong desire

to take care of them

to do for them

anything and everything possible

but the truth is, her daughter needs to grow

out of that dependence

and beyond it.

She is far more capable

than anyone else ever thought possible.

Not being able to see –

in a world filled with sights and colors

where people rush past quickly without a thought

she must teach her daughter to be strong.

She holds the loop in her hands

gently tracing her daughter’s fingertips

across the woven fabric ties

and realizes the difficult task before her

but her daughter is eager to learn

and mona comes to realize, with love

you can teach others

to overcome the impossible

It is only a matter of time.


© Sumyanna 2017


Written for The Daily Post Prompt: loop

Image courtesy of









Posted in Daily Post Prompt, Free Verse Poetry, Narrative Poetry, Parenthood Poems, Poetry, Sad Poems, Thoughtful Poems, Woman's Poetry, Word Prompt

I Shall Never Breathe the Same, a poem



My daughter walked to the store the other day

everything was routine

she kissed my cheek and called out her goodbyes

I could hear the slam of the door as she left

and the silence that lingered.

I went about, doing what mothers do

straightening beds, doing dishes, picking up all the messes

I was relieved to finally have time alone

and I don’t know where the time went –

but she never came back home.

After hours passed, I was worried

I called her friends but they had not seen her

I called other family members in grief

but as everyone said, ease your fears

she is sixteen


you know how kids are these days.

I found myself walking the same path she had taken

from the house to the store

and back

pacing worriedly, but holding on to hope

and this is where the story ends –

that last rope of similarity between us.

Days later, they found her body

dumped in a lake on the side of the road

miles and miles away

what pains me most, she was alone

and I swear –

I swear, my heart was stolen from me

she was only sixteen.

They never caught her killer

perhaps he still roams these streets

maybe he is lurking somewhere else

and I can’t help but question… why?

What did he think when

he raised his hands to hurt her?

What did he think when

he looked into her eyes?

And how can you take away

what isn’t even yours –

He didn’t even know her name.

Yet, he took my heart away

he took my heart away

and nothing will be the same

for the rest of my life

no one will ever

understand my grief

and I shall never breathe

the same.


© Sumyanna 2017


Written for The Daily Post Prompt: Relieved

This poem is purely fictional.






Posted in Daily Post Prompt, Narrative Poetry, Parenthood Poems, Poetry, Portrait Series Poetry, Sad Poems, Thoughtful Poems, Woman's Poetry, Word Prompt

Waking Up Sober, a poem

FontCandy (11)


Mom was the only one

who believed in me.

She’d stand by the sidelines

cheering me on at baseball games

hands waving wildly in the air

yelling “go, go, go” when I hit the ball.

In school, when I struggled

she was the one who held my hand

even if she struggled to understand,

she would make certain

I always walked away doing my best.

In high school, I was the one who changed.

I pushed her away, started following the wrong crowd.

Each night as I partied with friends

she panicked, staying up late

to make sure I was still alive,

but it was not enough for me.

I pushed her away

I followed the wrong influences

I did not understand

but always… she was there for me

no matter how far I fell

no matter how huge my mistakes,

but I was younger then

I could not hear anything

over my own yearnings

whether it be – alcohol or drugs

depending on who

I was spending my time with.

She tried – she always tried to do her best

and I could not bring myself to sober up

until it was much too late.

Back at the college dorm, I got the call

mom had been in an accident.

someone drove on the wrong side of the road

and it was much too late for her to escape it.

They say she felt no pain, it was over quick –

but nothing could cure the massive guilt I carried.

At her funeral, I was afraid to come close

I stood way in the back – I panicked.

There was so much I wanted to say

but I knew it was too late to say it.

Eventually, I made my way to her casket

and through thick tears, I promised

I would become the man

she had strived so hard to raise,

and I’ve been sober ever since.


© Sumyanna 2017


Written for The Daily Post Prompt: panicked

Image courtesy of



Posted in On Life, Parenthood Poems, Poetry, Thoughtful Poems, Woman's Poetry

Where the Magic Happens, a poem

FontCandy (6)


You have brought me

smiles and laughter

magic tricks

where you cover your head

in a towel

place a cat under your hat

and pull the towel

away slowly

to reveal your trick.

There is fun in this,

feigning surprise

all the while,

watching you


your not so secret


There is fun in

watching you

slowly find yourself

among the things

you hear

you see

and learn.

That is where

the real magic happens

and I applaud mightily

at your performance.


© Sumyanna 2017
Written for my dear little one, who entertained me this morning by showing me his talents 🙂

Posted in Narrative Poetry, Parenthood Poems, Poetry, Thoughtful Poems

Telling Lies, a poem


It started
With a lie
Not a large whopping lie
But a small one, or so I thought
Not that the size of lies matters now,
But things are always easier
In retrospect.
I called all my friends
From around the neighborhood
Begging them to come quickly
I told them Mother had said
We could watch TV
Make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches
And sit on her white couch.
Truth be told,
We had a fabulous time –
We enjoyed watching cartoons
While mother was at a neighbors, unaware.
She wore shock on her face
When she returned
All the color had drained
As she surveyed the mess of children,
Some stretched out in front of the TV
Other leaving fingerprints on her white couch
And still others,
Perched on her kitchen counter-top
Making more sandwiches.
The jelly jar was empty
And we sat and stared
With peanut butter mouths full,
Unable to speak.
My mother had that look, you see
The kind of look that quieted a room of children
We all knew that danger lurked not far.
I’ll never know what compelled me
To send invitations to a party
When no one knew the truth but me
But if I could whisper you a secret
I can promise I’ve never thought to do it again.

(c) Sumyanna 2017

Written for the prompt “tell about a lie you told”
Wonderful photo courtesy of

Posted in Parenthood Poems, Poetry, Thoughtful Poems, Woman's Poetry

For My Children, a poem


If I had the money
and the time,
I would spend
every waking moment
with my children
yearning to see the world
through their eyes
and learning to adjust my view.
It is not enough –
these moments spent
for though they are already
now by my side,
we get caught up in the distractions
the daily “to dos”
that promise to separate us.
Though together,
we are often separate
prowling our own mysteries
and were it not
those expectations
I would love to lay
beneath the clouds
in spring time
and watch them together
crawl slowly across the sky.
I would love to watch
the ripples of stones thrown
across the water’s edge
the horizon, wavering
in a cool blue stream.
It is in
these hurried moments
when schoolwork calls
when homework piles high
that still, I savor
every moment spent,
but if I had the money
and the time,
I would hope I would learn
to savor them all the more.

© Sumyanna 2017


Written for a prompt: “What would you do if you had the time and money…”

Posted in Daily Post Prompt, Parenthood Poems, Poetry, Thoughtful Poems, Woman's Poetry, Word Prompt

Loving You is an Instinct, a poem

LovingYou (4)

It is an instinct,

I think –

to love you the way I do

in stolen moments,

I have memorized

the curve of your smiles

the trace of your faces

and I hold them in my heart,


with all the reasons

I love you,

and the memories we have shared.

And it almost seems

as if not one moment existed

before your first cries

and because of you,

I have never known unhappiness.

It is not that I haven’t been given

plenty reasons to cry

for I – like many,

have borne my scars,

but in retrospect

it led me to this moment

it led me to you –

my children

who brighten my every day.

Creators of my ever-growing smile,

you have breathed life

into this old soul of mine

and though my path

was often paved with loneliness

you have left me unable to remember

the pain.


© Sumyanna 2017


For my children, who give me every reason to believe in the potential of humanity.  May we learn to listen to them more, be with them more, and realize that even they have something they can teach us.  Many, many things…


Written for The Daily Post Prompt: instinct

Beautiful image courtesy of

Posted in Narrative Poetry, Parenthood Poems, Poetry, Portrait Series Poetry, Sad Poems, Thoughtful Poems, Uncategorized

The Soul of this Place No Longer Resonates, a poem

Sometimes, a portrait speaks to me.  I find myself falling in and becoming part of the scene.  It is not that what I see, what I hear, or what I think is based on reality.  Instead, it is – what story does this image speak to me.  Sometimes I follow an easy path and other times I am lost within that image.  Either way, the story always starts out unknown to me and it gently unravels as I continue writing.  This poem should be part of my Portraits Series Poetry, but I just couldn’t help but share it now (instead of later).  I hope you enjoy.


I hear church bells in the distance,

it methodically counts the passing moments

one, two, three – are already spent.

It is a Monday afternoon and the sun is shining

I hear the water lapping against the leaning bridge

whose rotting beams has brought me here.

I choose to sit far away from the street,

and find shade beneath an old oak tree.

The bench I sit on, has been here longer than I

and the seat is worn, but comfortable.

Here is where I catch up with silence.

I wonder at the passing clouds, the call of seagulls overhead

I listen to the laughter of children play on the sidewalks

as school is finally dismissed.

I wonder at the passing of time

for I too, once played in these streets

calling out “Olley Olley Oxenfree!”

when the task of finding was difficult.

I remember Mr. Wagoner’s store on First Street

where we would buy candy – one penny each.

Sometimes you could find us laughing,

walking around town puffing candy cigarettes.

It was a gentle time, growing up

beneath the shade of a close knit community

where every house contained –

people that you knew, or thought you knew

and their watchful eye would keep you in place

somehow, there was just a comfort in being home.

I remember my college years, time spent in the big city

and I dreamt of my return to this comfortable haven.

I spent my time working hard, struggling to make ends meet

and though I was successful, it was nothing quite like home.

It was there that I met Mary, a dainty lass of twenty

with flowing, long red hair and a head full of dreams.

After college, we returned – Mary and I, and now, our son.

Mother and Father were delighted, for their home would not know silence

and we have raised our child upon these very streets.

People moved away and others moved in

and though the scenery didn’t change, the soul of this place vanished.

Neighbors never say hello and children no longer play along the pathways.

You still hear laughter at the end of school, but it’s just not the same,

for once the bell strikes four, the streets are empty once again.

Children are all inside, burdened heavy with books and lessons

or perhaps jettisoned to the nearby park for contact sports

there is that mad dash of – attaining something

and before their day is complete, perhaps there will be a round of

computer games, videos, or an active game of fighting over the television

there is no time to play.

Things have changed…

things have changed so much that the soul of this place no longer resonates

I feel the orphaned consequence of dissonance

and though sad, I smile to see my son

trotting across the bridge to greet me.

Another day is done,

and for the moment, I have forgotten my longing

but as soon as I look into his eyes, I cannot help but cry inside

for the childhood I cannot give him.

© Sumyanna 2017