Poems: For Svend

Ever had a teacher assign poems as assignments? I had a teacher who had us write different poems on a weekly basis. One week, we had to write a poem about our father. I was nine years old and adored my father, so I liked the idea, but poems came hard to me then. It took the better part of the week to write the following poem. I got an A and my dad still has a copy of the poem in his truck. It's not the best poem ever, but for a nine-year-old writing a poem for her dad, it was pretty good.

There was a man large as the sky,

Who always lit up Mother's eyes.

He had a son and three daughters,

Who were always proud to call him Father.

 

We'd hurry home from school each day,

Just so we could run and play.

All we wanted was to be with him,

And bask in his light ... it never dimmed.

 

He did not whine or even complain,

But ran with us through the rain.

He always dried our childish tears,

And chased away all of our fears.

 

He raised us to be kind and bright,

And always stand up for what was right.

As we grew he became a friend,

And always loved us without end.

Poems: By Your Side

There was a really serious reason I wrote this poem, I know there was, but a decade later I simply cannot remember what it was. Maybe it will come to me tomorrow...

Strong for you, I had to be.

For only you believed in me.

I knew one day that I would leave.

But how could it have been this eve?

 

I know that I will always be,

Held in your heart so perfectly.

You stood by my bed every day.

Though we knew it would end this way.

 

I know I asked you to keep your distance,

But really I needed your assistance.

Alone I would have pined and cried.

And wasted away before I died.

 

But you stayed ... what can I say?

I'm thankful you were here today.

If not for you I would have been alone,

Made of nothing but skin and bone.

 

And now I'm gone, but still around.

Listen close ... you'll hear my sounds.

In your heart is where I reside.

Always know I'll be by your side.

Poems: Crossroads

Most of my poems have some story behind them. Some were written to celebrate, some to grieve, and some just because I saw something funny. None of that applies to this particular poem. "Crossroads" came about when I was in the middle of writing a novel. It was my way of illustrating the indecision of one of the characters in the book. It had nothing to do with anything "real" unless you consider the characters bickering in my head to be real...

Should I turn around, give up, start again?

Or should I go over the wall, face their disdain?

There are terrible choices that I must make,

But right or wrong ... it's a chance I must take.

 

Be when those choices are made for others,

Be they children, sisters, or even brothers,

I ask myself if the decision is right,

And stay up thinking through this sleepless night.

 

I search for answers, hope for a voice,

To guide me now, to make my choice.

I cannot see what might be planned,

It all slips away, just like the sand.

 

There are only two options, oh what shall I do?

I'm at the crossroads ... which way is true?

If I choose right, there's peace of mind.

But if I don't, what shall I find?

Poems: Across the River

Years ago a good friend of mine lost her husband to cancer. She asked me to write her a poem that could adorn his grave marker. I wrote several for her, and this is the one she chose.

I've been gone for months now, but that's not so great a while.
I see that you do not laugh, that it's hard for you to smile.
I know my leaving was so hard and that it brought you grief.
But I am not unhappy, so let your pain be brief.
 
I am never far away, so please try not to fear.
I do wish I could touch your face and wash away your tears.
Open your eyes, look around, and you will surely see,
My love surrounds and cushions you, as it will ever be.
 
The rainbow you saw this morning when you opened up your door,
That was my small gift to you, and I swear there will be more.
Whenever something happens that makes you beam and glow,
It was me sending love, this you always must know.
 
You miss me, and I miss you, oh so very much.
I long to brush your skin and know your gentle touch.
It's not your time, precious one, so you will have to wait.
But when you cross the river wide, I'll meet you at the gate.