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The heavenly angels knew just what I wanted
a cherished bundle to be loved and flaunted
and when I saw you, I was filled up with love
such a perfect precious gift, sent from above

Just the sight of you brought a smile to my face
sweet dark eyes overflowing with angelic grace
not a single eyelash or brown hair out of place
too cute in your dresses made of satin and lace

Its not fair this tragic fate we were sadly dealt
all I ever prayed for was your happiness and health
I will never understand why God took you home
why me and your dad could not keep you for our own

But the Lord must have needed your special light
to shine in heaven above all, forever shining bright
every moment with you was as it was meant to be
and forever I will hold those memories close to me




In Memory of Olivia Louise Valenzuela, 5/18/2010-9/14/2010

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Last few words: 
My best friend lost her 4 mnth old daughter to SIDS, its unexplainable and horrible. I didn't know what to say to her. Still don't. But what I do have is my poetry.


A very emotional, well written piece.

Love lou

Stand tall, be proud to be who you are, give the world the finger!!!!

so sorry to hear of your friend's loss - there is nothing you can say - but just being there is the greatest help of all....

this poem flows easily and the slow rhythm brings a gentleness with the sadness
perfect title as it is a dedication.

love judy

'Each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star,
shall draw the Thing as he sees It, for the God of Things as They are.'
(Rudyard Kipling)

but the subject precludes my offering them. It is beautiful and sad. I can't say I liked it because of the sadness, but it is good poetry.

W. H. Snow

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley

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