I've been writing poetry ever since I can remember. My first poem went something like this:
I love Jesus.
Jesus loves me.
He died on the cross so that I might see
the light of the Lord in my heart and soul
from the tip of my head to the tips of my toes!
Pretty profound and abstract, huh??!! As my writing matured over the years, my desire to bare my soul through words on paper grew as well. I found myself writing to sort through the many emotions triggered by multiple moves in my childhood and adolescence, puberty, and the often nightmarish rites of passage known as high school and college. Not just as a tool for introspective insights, I found I could also use poetry to honor and celebrate various people and occasions along the way.
Sometimes they rhyme, sometimes not. Many have deliberate form while others are more like lists of seemingly unrelated words. Powerful or subtle. Serious or light-hearted. Meaningful or paltry. Poetry transforms words into lyrical stories; taking on an identity which can be manipulated by the audience. Regardless of personal experience, good poetry transcends time to remain relevant.
For me, writing has become a constant companion as I navigate the strange and ever-changing waters of this thing called "LIFE". Come back often to find new ramblings:)
I love Jesus.
Jesus loves me.
He died on the cross so that I might see
the light of the Lord in my heart and soul
from the tip of my head to the tips of my toes!
Pretty profound and abstract, huh??!! As my writing matured over the years, my desire to bare my soul through words on paper grew as well. I found myself writing to sort through the many emotions triggered by multiple moves in my childhood and adolescence, puberty, and the often nightmarish rites of passage known as high school and college. Not just as a tool for introspective insights, I found I could also use poetry to honor and celebrate various people and occasions along the way.
Sometimes they rhyme, sometimes not. Many have deliberate form while others are more like lists of seemingly unrelated words. Powerful or subtle. Serious or light-hearted. Meaningful or paltry. Poetry transforms words into lyrical stories; taking on an identity which can be manipulated by the audience. Regardless of personal experience, good poetry transcends time to remain relevant.
For me, writing has become a constant companion as I navigate the strange and ever-changing waters of this thing called "LIFE". Come back often to find new ramblings:)
A little girl's "Pap"
A tall, weathered man with a farmer's tan.
A small, pig-tailed, blond girl holding his hand.
Small town Ohio, white house up the road.
Just me and my Pap, a sight to behold.
What adventures would we encounter today?
A magical garden; the perfect place to play.
Neat little rows of every cabbage and bean,
Strawberries, cucumbers, beets and greens.
"Shhh, don't tell Gram," as we snuck into the grapes.
No use...she saw us through the kitchen drapes!
What now? Hide and seek behind the old walnut tree.
My Pap always wins when my giggles betray me.
Badminton, homemade peach ice cream and pie,
Puzzles, jokes, games and kites to fly.
Long summer days filled with laughter and fun
Memories made and stories begun.
The little pig-tailed girl is a woman now grown
With a family and children of my very own.
The stories my Pap and I started so long ago
Will now be passed on so they may know.
The man whose hands had seen hard work and strife
But who's smile was quick; family first was his life.
Sparkling eyes and a shock of white hair,
Dry wit and humor delivered with flare!
Though moments stretch into days and days into years
I remember them fondly; smiling through tears.
Thankful for his legacy living on in me
My Pap, the "Funny Man", now and always will be.
A tall, weathered man with a farmer's tan.
A small, pig-tailed, blond girl holding his hand.
Small town Ohio, white house up the road.
Just me and my Pap, a sight to behold.
What adventures would we encounter today?
A magical garden; the perfect place to play.
Neat little rows of every cabbage and bean,
Strawberries, cucumbers, beets and greens.
"Shhh, don't tell Gram," as we snuck into the grapes.
No use...she saw us through the kitchen drapes!
What now? Hide and seek behind the old walnut tree.
My Pap always wins when my giggles betray me.
Badminton, homemade peach ice cream and pie,
Puzzles, jokes, games and kites to fly.
Long summer days filled with laughter and fun
Memories made and stories begun.
The little pig-tailed girl is a woman now grown
With a family and children of my very own.
The stories my Pap and I started so long ago
Will now be passed on so they may know.
The man whose hands had seen hard work and strife
But who's smile was quick; family first was his life.
Sparkling eyes and a shock of white hair,
Dry wit and humor delivered with flare!
Though moments stretch into days and days into years
I remember them fondly; smiling through tears.
Thankful for his legacy living on in me
My Pap, the "Funny Man", now and always will be.
Grandma’s hugs…
There’s no better gift than a “Grandma” hug! No better moment to spend!
So full of warmth and life and love; heart and spirit able to mend.
Grandmas all were daughters once; mothers and wives, too.
Hard work and many sleepless nights when the rewards seemed few.
God was watching as the families grew and approved of the job well-done.
Blessing each grandma with a special gift; boundless and second to none.
As in all things, He knew best; to bestow such a grand purpose
On those whose shoulders bear the world’s suffering and stress.
The wrinkles and the weathered hands; signs of strife and pain,
Those same hands now pull us in and shelter us from life’s rain.
The power of their love will heal the world, one tender hug at a time.
Hugs “hello”, hugs “good-bye”, hugs uniquely sublime.
Hugs to comfort and hugs to mourn, hugs to celebrate and praise,
Hugs to remind us we’re never alone, no matter how far we’re away.
God saved this skill for those whose hearts melt at the tiniest “coo”,
For to behold the love in a grandma’s eyes is to see the world anew.
There’s no better gift than a “Grandma” hug! No better moment to spend!
So full of warmth and life and love; heart and spirit able to mend.
Grandmas all were daughters once; mothers and wives, too.
Hard work and many sleepless nights when the rewards seemed few.
God was watching as the families grew and approved of the job well-done.
Blessing each grandma with a special gift; boundless and second to none.
As in all things, He knew best; to bestow such a grand purpose
On those whose shoulders bear the world’s suffering and stress.
The wrinkles and the weathered hands; signs of strife and pain,
Those same hands now pull us in and shelter us from life’s rain.
The power of their love will heal the world, one tender hug at a time.
Hugs “hello”, hugs “good-bye”, hugs uniquely sublime.
Hugs to comfort and hugs to mourn, hugs to celebrate and praise,
Hugs to remind us we’re never alone, no matter how far we’re away.
God saved this skill for those whose hearts melt at the tiniest “coo”,
For to behold the love in a grandma’s eyes is to see the world anew.
A Mother’s Legacy
Crumpled pages litter the floor; as I stand watching from the door.
Lines of verse incomplete; jumbled thoughts on paper repeat.
How can I tell her, how will she know, how much I appreciate and love her so?
Finding the words to express my true feelings; searching my heart, my entire being.
Images playing in my mind; snapshots of days gone by.
Children’s songs in my head; memories of being tucked into bed.
Just across this tiny room, my own children sleep; night in full bloom.
Quietly, I kiss their brow; silently, I ask again, “How?”
How is it that I am so blessed? “They chose you above the rest.”
The answer came and then I knew…I chose my precious mother, too.
Now it is my turn to honor my own; pass on the love my mother shown.
To guide my children, teach them, play along; nurture, strengthen, sing a song.
Laugh and cry, help them to pray; for faith and devotion will light their way.
And when I am weary, I look to her; the example she set, so steadfast and sure.
I draw from her strength to face a new day; proud to be her child and well on my way,
To raising children of my very own; someday looking back, amazed how they’ve grown.
I can only hope and pray my children see her in me someday.
And me in themselves, and on and on; her legacy continues, dusk to dawn.
Crumpled pages litter the floor; as I stand watching from the door.
Lines of verse incomplete; jumbled thoughts on paper repeat.
How can I tell her, how will she know, how much I appreciate and love her so?
Finding the words to express my true feelings; searching my heart, my entire being.
Images playing in my mind; snapshots of days gone by.
Children’s songs in my head; memories of being tucked into bed.
Just across this tiny room, my own children sleep; night in full bloom.
Quietly, I kiss their brow; silently, I ask again, “How?”
How is it that I am so blessed? “They chose you above the rest.”
The answer came and then I knew…I chose my precious mother, too.
Now it is my turn to honor my own; pass on the love my mother shown.
To guide my children, teach them, play along; nurture, strengthen, sing a song.
Laugh and cry, help them to pray; for faith and devotion will light their way.
And when I am weary, I look to her; the example she set, so steadfast and sure.
I draw from her strength to face a new day; proud to be her child and well on my way,
To raising children of my very own; someday looking back, amazed how they’ve grown.
I can only hope and pray my children see her in me someday.
And me in themselves, and on and on; her legacy continues, dusk to dawn.
Lord, Bless This Boy
So new to this world,
you managed to steal
Our hearts right away,
but what an ordeal!
Not knowing for sure
what was to come
We committed your soul
to the only, true One.
Three weeks old
and barely aware
Bright blue eyes
and skin so fair.
Dressed in an heirloom,
long white gown
Peaceful, content,
you made not a sound.
Holy water, prayer
and a special verse
A precious, new birth,
yet so close to the first.
That baptism held
the promise of life
Spirit breathed in;
blessings so rife!
How quickly time flies
and now here you stand.
No longer a baby
but nearly a man.
We’ve taught and you’ve learned
the ways of the Word.
Armed and ready for battle
wisdom mightier than the sword!
Kneeling together as a family today
bowing our heads in prayer.
Receiving the Holy Sacrament
our first Lord’s Supper shared.
Surrounded by those that love you
and who will continue to pray
Confirmation is just the beginning
Of walking Jesus’ way.
Glory be to the Father, Son, and Spirit
Triune, three in one.
He holds your heart now and forevermore
our dear and cherished Son!
So new to this world,
you managed to steal
Our hearts right away,
but what an ordeal!
Not knowing for sure
what was to come
We committed your soul
to the only, true One.
Three weeks old
and barely aware
Bright blue eyes
and skin so fair.
Dressed in an heirloom,
long white gown
Peaceful, content,
you made not a sound.
Holy water, prayer
and a special verse
A precious, new birth,
yet so close to the first.
That baptism held
the promise of life
Spirit breathed in;
blessings so rife!
How quickly time flies
and now here you stand.
No longer a baby
but nearly a man.
We’ve taught and you’ve learned
the ways of the Word.
Armed and ready for battle
wisdom mightier than the sword!
Kneeling together as a family today
bowing our heads in prayer.
Receiving the Holy Sacrament
our first Lord’s Supper shared.
Surrounded by those that love you
and who will continue to pray
Confirmation is just the beginning
Of walking Jesus’ way.
Glory be to the Father, Son, and Spirit
Triune, three in one.
He holds your heart now and forevermore
our dear and cherished Son!
My Prayer for Us
My nightly prayers always praise Him for his many glorious gifts;
My family, my health, my friends, to Him my thanks I lift.
But, I never pray harder or longer than I do for you and us.
Knowing with all my heart our union was blessed and I trust
He brought us together for a reason; many reasons I’m sure
We’ve only begun to realize this truth and several more.
He somehow saw fit to bring you into my ordinary life
At a time when I was lost in identity, fear, and strife.
You were a beacon in my darkest days; shining forth your light
Showing, teaching, loving me; encouraging my flight.
Now we soar together, our little flock in tow,
Ever growing, changing, through life’s ebb and flow.
The years have gone so quickly, and yet some moments are frozen in time,
Our wedding day, the births of our boys, living on a dime,
Too many doctors, fantastic trips, and lots of birthday parties,
Whether in praise or despair, we found ourselves on our knees.
In those precious minutes we took to reflect on what lay ahead,
My hand in yours and our hearts entwined, graciously He led.
Tonight as we look back, thankful for all we have become;
It’s the path in front of us that holds our hopes as one.
Our dreams have changed and grown as we have matured,
Once money, awards and “lots of stuff”, our vision was narrow and blurred,
Now happiness, health, security and many more years to share,
Growing old together; celebrating life and a love most rare.
For in your eyes I see the love drawing me into your space,
I feel it in your most intimate touch and in our longest embrace.
Your heart beats strong and deep for me; no one is more blessed
Navigating the next adventure, together on this quest.
No matter what we face when tomorrow’s light breaks free
Know you are my heart’s true love and yours I’ll always be.
My nightly prayers always praise Him for his many glorious gifts;
My family, my health, my friends, to Him my thanks I lift.
But, I never pray harder or longer than I do for you and us.
Knowing with all my heart our union was blessed and I trust
He brought us together for a reason; many reasons I’m sure
We’ve only begun to realize this truth and several more.
He somehow saw fit to bring you into my ordinary life
At a time when I was lost in identity, fear, and strife.
You were a beacon in my darkest days; shining forth your light
Showing, teaching, loving me; encouraging my flight.
Now we soar together, our little flock in tow,
Ever growing, changing, through life’s ebb and flow.
The years have gone so quickly, and yet some moments are frozen in time,
Our wedding day, the births of our boys, living on a dime,
Too many doctors, fantastic trips, and lots of birthday parties,
Whether in praise or despair, we found ourselves on our knees.
In those precious minutes we took to reflect on what lay ahead,
My hand in yours and our hearts entwined, graciously He led.
Tonight as we look back, thankful for all we have become;
It’s the path in front of us that holds our hopes as one.
Our dreams have changed and grown as we have matured,
Once money, awards and “lots of stuff”, our vision was narrow and blurred,
Now happiness, health, security and many more years to share,
Growing old together; celebrating life and a love most rare.
For in your eyes I see the love drawing me into your space,
I feel it in your most intimate touch and in our longest embrace.
Your heart beats strong and deep for me; no one is more blessed
Navigating the next adventure, together on this quest.
No matter what we face when tomorrow’s light breaks free
Know you are my heart’s true love and yours I’ll always be.
Snapshots of my Gram and Me...
There she stood. Wavy, wiry, red-gray hair, green checkered apron tied around her waist. She peels an apple, producing one long, continuous rind, while gazing out the kitchen window.
Two homemade pies cooling on the stove and the scent of rhubarb on the breeze.
A little girl sits. Propped up by phone books on an aged kitchen chair. Blond pigtails bobbing. Watching. Giggling. Finger-painting in the flour.
There she worked. Cross-legged on the red shag rug surrounded by swatches of fabric, strands of lace and scraps of ribbon. All varieties of knitting needles, quilting tools, yarn and thread strewn across the floor. Glasses propped up on the bridge of her nose. Nimble fingers working the cloth.
A little girl kneels. Looking over the woman’s shoulder with wonder as she creates. Bits and pieces magically transformed into a beautiful dress or intricate quilt by her gifted hands.
There she played. Feet bare. Green eyes twinkling. Turning the garden into a playground and the hallway closet into an enchanted treasure chest. Games and puzzles and books. Crafts and paints and coloring paper. Tiddly Winks providing hours of laughter.
A little girl stands. On tippy toes clasping an embellished mirror. Admiring the reflection of grown-up jewels normally reserved for Sunday services, now draped over a child’s frame.
There she spoke. Sitting with knees bent on the back stoop. Dirt between her toes, snapping a bushel of beans. Her voice filled with conviction and confidence, yet gentle and graceful. Life’s lessons and virtues passed down from one generation to the next.
A little girl grows. Listening intently. Minding the words and expressions. Unaware of the lasting impression made by each word hanging in the humid, summertime air.
You STOOD firm, WORKED hard, PLAYED passionately and SPOKE honestly.
Because of you, I SIT in awe, KNEEL in respect, STAND in honor and GROW in faith.
There she stood. Wavy, wiry, red-gray hair, green checkered apron tied around her waist. She peels an apple, producing one long, continuous rind, while gazing out the kitchen window.
Two homemade pies cooling on the stove and the scent of rhubarb on the breeze.
A little girl sits. Propped up by phone books on an aged kitchen chair. Blond pigtails bobbing. Watching. Giggling. Finger-painting in the flour.
There she worked. Cross-legged on the red shag rug surrounded by swatches of fabric, strands of lace and scraps of ribbon. All varieties of knitting needles, quilting tools, yarn and thread strewn across the floor. Glasses propped up on the bridge of her nose. Nimble fingers working the cloth.
A little girl kneels. Looking over the woman’s shoulder with wonder as she creates. Bits and pieces magically transformed into a beautiful dress or intricate quilt by her gifted hands.
There she played. Feet bare. Green eyes twinkling. Turning the garden into a playground and the hallway closet into an enchanted treasure chest. Games and puzzles and books. Crafts and paints and coloring paper. Tiddly Winks providing hours of laughter.
A little girl stands. On tippy toes clasping an embellished mirror. Admiring the reflection of grown-up jewels normally reserved for Sunday services, now draped over a child’s frame.
There she spoke. Sitting with knees bent on the back stoop. Dirt between her toes, snapping a bushel of beans. Her voice filled with conviction and confidence, yet gentle and graceful. Life’s lessons and virtues passed down from one generation to the next.
A little girl grows. Listening intently. Minding the words and expressions. Unaware of the lasting impression made by each word hanging in the humid, summertime air.
You STOOD firm, WORKED hard, PLAYED passionately and SPOKE honestly.
Because of you, I SIT in awe, KNEEL in respect, STAND in honor and GROW in faith.