Mom's Poetry

I've been going through some of Mom's old poetry she wrote in High School and College, and decided to post a few of them. :)

-You My Child-

You, my child,

Are yet unborn,

Still only thought of and dreamed over.

Thought still unconceived

I can see you in my mind.

You, my child, are

A fulfillment of a promise.

A promise made in love and happiness.

You have an enormous task to complete,

But I know you can finish

Because you are the echo of me.

You, my child, and God together…

One with the other and in the other

He will guide

And protect you from

Any harm that might reach from the shadows.

My baby, you are the completion of a friendship,

 So even now I might tell you,

 I love you,

And I trust you with my promise

all origional

-Untitled-

I want to write a song

And make everything alright.

A song of love and happiness

That would chase away the night.

I want to write a song and

Tell you that I care.

A song filled with gentleness

Soft as flowing air.

I want to write a song

That will erase the past.

A song that can’t be forgotten

Because it seems to last and last.

I want to write a song

And change what soon must be.

A song that doesn’t say goodbye,

And admits that you are free.

But I can’t write a song,

That wasn’t meant to play,

Or change the future

Because I don’t like today

Concrete Memories

It’s so strange… viewing you as a real person.

You dreamed, and hurt.

You fell, fast and hard,

And got burned.

You had friends, and enemies.

You had hopes, and almost loves.

You had crushes, and wishes.

Just like me.

You were real.

I wish I could ask you now,

Who did you mean?

Why were you so sad?

All of those stories

That I will never hear now,

The dreams I wish you could have

 passed down

to me.

I know there is so much of you in me…

But I wish I knew which parts.

The parts of you

You didn’t talk about with anyone.

But I think you would have with me

Over a cup of coffee,

Early in the morning.

Or on the edge of my bed,

Late at night.

You’d be happy to see me

When I come home,

 And I’d always know there was a safe place

To land, when my wings are tired.

I guess someday you will.

I’ll fly to your arms,

 And never be tired or lonesome,

Or wish for anything ever again.

It’ll be the perfect reunion.

There

June 15, 2012

Singing at the top of my lungs

I went there today.

Letting the warm windiness

Carry the tear slipping down my face away.

Thinking of everything but what waited

I went there today.

Pretending it was just another

Shade edged gravel road.

Another day.

There.

A place that holds no significance

But feels like maybe it might.

I can’t help it.

It draws me like a bee

To a flower picked yesterday.

Disappointed,

But I knew all along.

It’s just a stone of remembrance.

Peaceful,

A hill to the valley.

The swaying, listening trees

The only company I’ve got today.

I asked you why I came there today.

The granite isn’t you.

The grass isn’t your hair.

The earth isn’t your skin.

The graven, hard sunk letters

Are not your words.

But it’s your name.

And mine.

Remembered

When I’m miles away,

It’s etched on my fingertips.

I will make you proud.

Rising from my knees

I know I have to go.

There is no reason to stay

There.

So thus with a kiss…

I return to the normal we’ve become.

A few tears lighter,

A few promises heavier.

Thunder Blue

June 17, 2012

Thunder blue

Cast over the room

As the storm strums the tune

Of missing

On the time worn shingles overhead.

The air is heavy on my skin

And the rain like lighting points,

Fingers of pain and joy

In one powerful hand.

Not sure why this makes me lonesome…

Maybe because rain is always the same?

One drop very much like the next

And storms are made up of them.

Drops of memory.

Running as fast as a tiny girl could,

Up the hill with my plastic blue wagon in tow.

Dancing around,

Splashing in the puddles while mama watched from the porch.

Feeling those first drops

As he wrapped his fingers around mine…

Getting soaked and not caring.

Dancing,

Flirting,

Wishing…

And then kissing.

Under those same familiar flashes and roars…

Maybe that’s why all my storm memories

Are painted thunder blue.

And no one should be Thunder blue alone.