MICHAEL JACKSON 1958/2009 R.I.P. by Cher reposted

Michael Jackson 1958/2009 R.I.P. (re posted by request)

Never allowed to be a kid

Never allowed to be a child

Never allowed to be a man

Never allowed to be un hid

He sang the songs the world will never forget

He danced the dances we had never before seen

He wowed the world with his endless talent

He suffered alone trying to fill a need.

A need to be loved , and a need to care

A need to be hugged, but no one was there

A need to be him, but was never to be Michael Jackson wanted to be , just be....

The pain in his lyrics will live forever on

Listen to the words and hear his pain full song

He cryed out for help, and no one came through

He wanted to love, but to his self couldn't be true.

The great King of Pop, is gone but not in our hearts

As the Cd's , videos and all stuff him will be carted

To our homes, libraries and places to remember him well

Now in death they will sell sell sell

I hope the world can see what we've done

To a boy, a man, a person who wanted to belong

He may have been rich, but what we don't see

Is how poor, sad in life he really could be.

Written by Cheryl Edwards

June 2009 Copy rite @2009 Cheryl Edwards

Please Read -Disclaimer
I am not a professional poet. I can only offer advice and my personal knowledge on the subject.

Writers take notice, a must see if you are ready to make some money!

The Vent & the Piano By Cher a short story

The Vent & the Piano By Cher a short story

As a young girl many of my fondest memories were centered around my mothers piano. It was a Heintzman upright piano, very large both in stature and sound. In the house we lived, the piano was kept in a dining room which was converted into a music room because we didn't have a dining room furniture. The music room was directly below my Mother's bedroom, the bedroom and the music room were also connected by a vent which heated both rooms at the same time. The cover on the vent in my mother's room was made of gold painted cast iron, with big holes in it to let the heat flow and made it perfect for looking through.

My Mother was quite an accomplished pianist and my brother and I loved to listen to her play. She played everything from Bach to Ragtime, and all of it was music to our ears. We would sit beside her and sing along with familiar songs, and we would try to play, ourselves, after Mom was done. Most of the time we were just "pounding" as my Mother would have called it, but after time & practice we learned to play songs that actually sounded like songs.

As in every family i'm sure, bedtime had to come sooner or later and my brother and I would go upstairs and lay there in our beds, waiting to hear the creek of the piano bench as my Mother would sit down to play her evening winding down music. Slowly we would climb out of our beds, crawl towards the vent in Mom's room, because walking would tip her off that we were awake, and then lay down on the floor in just the perfect position to get a a good view of where my Mother was, then listen. I remember how loud or how soft a certain song would be played, or how much emotion she poured into a piece, and to hear that same song today brings a warm feeling to my heart. We would listen for hours to the awesome music that filtered up through the vent to comfort us until she stopped. We would then sneak back to our beds and dream of the music that filled our souls on those evenings.

Today the piano sits in my makeshift music room, which has a connecting vent that leads up into my bedroom. My children's bedrooms surround mine and sometimes when they are in bed, I play like she did so many years ago. I'm not as accomplished as she, but I do enjoy the quiet time, and I now know how very relaxing it its to play as much as it was to listen.

Every now and then I hear the floor upstairs creaking while I play, and I wonder how many little eyes are peering at me, who should be in their beds, but I don't stop.......I wouldn't dare stop!

Written by Cheryl Edwards June 2009
Copy rite @2009 Cheryl Edwards

Please Read -Disclaimer
I am not a professional poet. I can only offer advice and my personal knowledge on the subject.

Writers take notice, a must see if you are ready to make some money!