3 posts tagged “poems”

BOUND IN GRATITUDE

Oh, How oft I do forget,

The blessing that you are to me.

What greater ills my life would be beset,

If  you weren’t  there,

To lean upon, to share my tears,

As together on our quest we go,

Hand in hand our Lord to see.

This race though, that we seek to run,

Without a friend my stumbling would prevail,

But for your prayers,

That Christ’s grace for me avail,

Despite my talk, despite my walk,

His mercy doth He richly pour,

Upon this object of travail.

More than in the spirit doth thou sustain,

With tender glance and thoughtful prose,

You make me feel of royal blood,

In a world of thistles you’re my rose,

With fragrant scent, with petals unspent,

Only one greater love doth there abound,

And that only God Himself can know.

                                                      DADDY’S HERE

                                                       Looking Up,
                                       With tearful eyes, so big and brown,
                                                     A trembling lip,
                                                     A runny nose,
                                             And a saddened frown,
                                               Awakened by a dream,
                                                   A night-time fear,
                                                 But it’s alright son,
                                                 Your Daddy’s here.

                                                    Head in hands,
                                      With heavy heart, he sits and cries,
                                                  Between his feet,
                                                His baseball glove,
                                       His cap pulled down to lowered eyes,
                                             Up at bat, he lost the game,
                                               And with a win so near,
                                                  But it’s alright son,
                                                 Your Daddy’s here.

                                                   Forcing a smile,
                                    Pretending disappointment isn’t there,
                                                  A wilted corsage,
                                                   A loosened tie,
                                 The car cleaned and waxed with care,
                                            To be stood up on a date,
                                           By a girl he held so dear,
                                               But it’s alright son,
                                                Your Daddy’s here.
 
                                                  A piercing scream,
                                    She sits in mud, beneath her swing,
                                                   With dirty face,
                                                   And dirty hands,
                                                 And dirty everything.
                                                The fall though small,
                                         Brought both a bruise and tear,
                                                 But it’s alright now,
                                                 Your Grandpa’s here.

                       (Winner of the 1989 Naome Dolton Award/Fort Worth Poetry Society)

Some of my friends have asked me about my poetry, so I thought I would share a few of my more popular ones:  All poems are copyrighted and/or published.

                                                The Swan

                                         Ivory White,
                                             In graceful curves.
                                             Prayer like in poise.
                                                   Unadorned,
                                      And yet more magnificent,
                                       Than the finest of pearls.
                                    Startled....she lifts her head,
                                     From off her tender breast,
                                   This virgin bride of noble birth.
                                               Wings spread,
                                 With a furor of untamed strength.
                                               Rippling sinews,
                             Beneath a softness of snowy down.
                                              Her image blurs,
                                           Upon a sea of glass,
                                          As she begins to rise,
                                          Defying natures laws,
                            Escaping to the freedom of the skies.

                                       (winner of the 1986 Pegasus Award)

                                        The Rose

                                       Head held high,
                                   In royal splendor and elegance,
                                           Her tear streaked face,
                                         Lifted to a passing cloud,
                                                 Crimson cheeks,
                                 Red, like the blood of a fallen lover,
                                   Beginning life closed to the world,
                                                Hiding her secrets,
                                         Only, to open in her fulness,
                                                And share her life,
                                                      In death.

                                                      (Published in "Therehold of a Dream")

                                                Solitary Grief     

                                               Can it be shared
                                            In song or in rhyme,
                                           With memories clear,
                                         Of a loved one not here
                                                 Taken in death
                                        In his season and time?    

                                                Can one express,
                                            In the limits of prose,
                                           The loss in my heart,
                                          The past falling apart,
                                          A weariness in my soul,
                                               Only God knows.   

                                                 Must it be felt,
                                     To know someones grief,
                                          A pain thats so real,
                                    That Gods spirit must heal,
                                          The weeping within,
                                        For a life shared too brief.       

                      (Written after my Father died in 1988.....and now my son Ryan, Sept 1st, 2008)
                                                              Published in "Memories"