Category Archives: Poems

Childhood Joys

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well-loved children with sparkling eyes

rosy cheeks, and happy smiles

glittering with unbounded joy

freely bestowing generous hugs and

warm kisses that leave cheeks glistening

with reminders of their passing

 

laughter peels from hallway rooms

giggles rising to the gloriously blue sky

caressing souls, nourishing hearts

better than steak and potatoes

or a well-read book

warm arms, tickling fingers

and conversations uninhibited by age

 

playground games fairly played

indoors under the watchful eyes

of guardian parents checking safety

guarding friendships from the

ills of sibling rivalry

growing up together in love

 

meals broken and shared

prayers offered with heartfelt sincerity

special times protecting doors

to teenage rebellion that tears

families apart, breaking hearts

and shattering good times remembered

 

for now, though, life is good

quiet times of reflection broken only

by stories told and songs sung

well-love children with sparkling eyes

rosy cheeks, and happy smiles

glittering with unbounded joy

Princess no More

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Princess no more she sadly reflects

Upon life’s unfair realities

Father was killed by seven suspects

Lords who forgot their fealties

 

Sadly she looks at her former house

Hearty tears descend down roughened cheeks

Enslaved, tormented like timid mouse

She secretly planned for twenty weeks

 

Escape across the mist-covered moor

Shoeless she runs under crescent moon

Fear drives her forward; footing unsure

Freedom’s joys erasing mournful tune

 

With bleeding feet she stumbles along

Nights the princess seeks shelter discreet

Each sunrise she greets with trembling song

Determined, she moves on tender feet

 

Far from home the princess finds relief

A cottage hidden in forest deep

Woman, kind, knew her father, the chief

Gives the girl a bed in which to sleep

 

Loyal friendship here she now detects

Will dwell no more on fatalities

Princess no more she sadly reflects

Upon life’s unfair realities

 

 

 

 

 

 

Love

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Love is an ever-changing dialogue

A definition that is vague, perpetually

Unclear

When young, we feel it nestled in parents’ arms

Snuggled together on the couch

In Spring

As teens it’s infatuation with different

It defines clothes, music, and, of course,

The other

As twenties we feel lust’s call to reproduce

To couple and uncouple, searching for

Perfection

Eventually love consumes thought and action

We marry, co-habitate, share things and thoughts

Intertwined

But when we grow old, loves morphs into

Companionship, shared quiet times, walks and talks

Togetherness

Love is still there, still speaks to our hearts,

But not with the intensity of youth

In a soft voice

Love is everything and more

It is laughter and tears, joy and sadness

Forever

 

 

A Dream of Peace

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I dreamt that I traversed the sands of time

to a place mysterious and sublime.

Where gigantic trees with branches stout,

safely nestled all feathered friends about,

 

providing shelter from many foe,

yet allowing freedom to come and go.

Silky soft leaves whose gentle caress

becalms restless souls, soothes with fine finesse

 

young and old alike; no bias here

where all live in peace for many a year.

Through the sands a winding river ran

giving sustenance to both beast and man.

 

Surprisingly blue with not a trace

of sinister longings upon its face.

It speaks of a sweet love; it calls to me,

“Step right in,” it says, “ and I’ll set you free

 

from all that ails; as well sin and pain.

You have nothing to lose, but much to gain.”

With tremulous step I slowly crept

into her warm, comforting arms.  I slept.

 

Or thought I did, for there soon appeared

hosts of angels. I panicked, afeared

of my demise. But to my surprise

they lifted me on high with joyous cries.

 

The night did end. My dream soon left.

The suffering world found me quite bereft

and yearning for that heavenly place

whose welcoming arms did me quick embrace.

 

One thing alone I brought home with me:

knowledge that all men could soar high and free

seeking truth, wisdom, righteousness, and grace.

making earth a truly heavenly place.

The Story of Spring

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Blessed Sun awakened, stretched,

and flew high into the sky.

Looking down on Mother Earth,

He smiled, spreading His golden

sunshine across Her mountains

with a brilliant golden hue.

 

Mother Earth smiled, reveling

in the spring-like warmth

that penetrated to the depths

of Her glorious soul.

 

To show Her gladness, She

ordered a rainbow of tulips

to burst through Her crust,

to open their buds in a

burst of color.

 

Blessed Sun bowed in thanks,

appreciation for the gift,

then slept behind a blanket

of darkening clouds.

 

Snow fell, a late-arrival,

covering Mother Earth’s gifts.

 

She called to Blessed Sun,

her friend, saying, “Arise!”

And He did, looking once

again at His lover.

 

All was well in the world.

Balance restored.

 

Mother Earth returned to work

creating new life,

while Blessed Sun came each

day to keep her company.

 

The cycle is unbroken.

All things Must End

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Dreamers navigate their way

through shadows deep and dark

searching for the light of morning,

marching across endless dry deserts

 

or searching towering mountain peaks

crowned by heavenly angels

whose glittery gossamer wings

flutter fleetingly in a gentle breeze

 

brushing the sleeper’s cheek

as lightly as mother once did,

helping to climb the ladder

of delicious dreams toward

 

a blushing sky, streaked

orange, pink, and baby blue

as the sun, ever so slowly,

rises to greet the morning

 

shirking off terrifying nightmares

of hideous monsters and demons

or relishing romantic love stories

sung by twinkling firelight

 

in a lover’s embrace,

broken most unwillingly only

to greet the dawn of day,

without thinking, without choosing,

 

unable to stop the inevitable

awakening as all must for

dreamers’ dreams must end.

The Laugh

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The laugh is a miracle waiting to happen

A gurgling stream bouncing over life’s boulders

Riotous, rollicking wit on which to lighten

Burdensome weights from heavily bent shoulders

 

Fluffy clouds frolic freely through each person’s mind

That soon bubble out in side-splitting guffaws

A feeling so wondrous, magical in its kind

Unique in its effect; mood altering awes

 

Liberally dished out in portions humongous

No meager spoonfuls for humanity’s sake

Spread across boundaries, in actions so wondrous

That ribs crackle, tears flow, and sides quickly ache

 

The sun’s golden rays blossom majestically

Illuminating rainbows in bright hues

Emotions explode into sounds musically

Harmonious tunes blend in colorful hues

 

Burdensome miseries removed from memory

Riotous, rollicking times for the taking

Gurgling rivers of life’s hilarious story

The laugh, a miraculous joyous speaking

Sepia World

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Caught in a dark, sepia-toned world,

A desperate child cries in the night

Yearning for a mother’s love unfurled

Strong enough to scare away the fright

 

Hiding in corners to block out the fears

The abandoned child screams silently

Not bothering to wipe away the tears

He clings to dreams with such certainty

 

That reality flies far away

Swept up in a swirling gust of wind

The child’s home, a staircase of decay

The child’s heart, believing to the end

 

Mother, are you ever coming back?

I am so hungry, cold, and weak, that

It is hard to breathe.  Your love, I lack.

You left me nothing: not coat, gloves, or hat.

 

His cries float into the starless night

Reaching no friendly heart.  He gives up.

No more do the ravages of night

Disturb the boy.  Empty is his cup.

A Mother’s Duties

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What does a mother do when she realizes

that her child will never witness a golden sunset

or the glory of the sun peaking over mountains

to greet the new day, nor will he stand,

slack-jawed, as a jet leaves a smoke

trail across a deep blue sky, or point,

mesmerized as a yellow-stripped bumble bee

frolics from flower to flower?

 

She hugs her son close to her breast and tells

him how intensely he is loved, opening his

senses to the world.

 

What can a mother do when she knows that

her son can barely pick out her smiling face

from the fuzzy world that fills his view,

or the brightly colored toys dangling seductively

overhead, nor the radiant smiles of his brother

and sisters as they greet him in the morning?

 

She uses words to describe the world, guides

his tiny fingers as he explores through touch,

what others experience with eyes, and she tells

him how intensely he is loved.

 

What should a mother do when her son is ready

to crawl, knowing that he will never see the

obstacles in his way until it is too late, or when

he takes that first tentative step and crashes right

into the pointed edge of the piano bench, or when

he wants to go outside and play like his siblings,

but the world is too dangerous?

 

She allows him to fall, just as she did the sighted

ones, for by stumbling we learn to conquer whatever

obstacles jump up to block our progress.

 

More than anything, a mother offers unbridled love.

That’s what a mother does.