Monday, January 12, 2015

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?

Monday, January 5, 2015

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.

Monday, December 22, 2014

Poems: Questions

After some digging in an old box I found in my parents' basement, I found this poem that I wrote sometime in my early 20s (maybe my late teens). I don't actually remember the incident that inspired it, but it must have been something that hit me deeply at the time.


There are so many questions whose answers I can't find.
Will I ever heal and leave the past behind?
When will my strength return ... will I ever be the same?
Will I find forgiveness or will I always be to blame?
 
My heart, it lies in pieces ... will be ever be just one?
Will I get my life back ... will my grief ever be done?
Can I have some peace ... will my pain ever stop?
When this all is over, will I come out on top?
 
Can I let the past go and just live for today?
Will the horrid nightmares ever go away?
Will I see myself again or am I ever changed?
Can I fix the life that has been rearranged?
 
I still feel so dirty ... can I once again be clean?
I know this was a lesson, but what can this thing mean?
Can I ever live again ... can I seek my dreams?
Or will I always feel like I am tearing at the seams?
 
Is there any hope for me or should I just give up?
Will I always feel as if I am an empty cup?
Can I ever heal ... will I ever mend?
The guilt and pain I feel inside ... will it ever end?

Monday, August 11, 2014

Poems: For Baby Hannah

This poem was written not long after my niece died. It's not the best I've ever written, but it gets the message across.


Our future plans are shattered now,
As you lie beneath our feet.
Every thought of you is a memory,
Painful and yet so sweet.


Even now we hold you must dear,
Though you are buried deep,
Beneath that old willow tree,
Whose secret we shall keep.


You have died too young, too soon,
Your short story briefly told.
And though I yearn to join you,
I must let my own fate unfold.