*GRANDMA WAITS IN THE GARDEN*
Hi, grandpa it's me again!
Your dentures sit in an open glass
Do you remember the tears grandma sang before she passed?
The way she looked into your eyes,
Moments before she said her goodbyes
Grandpa, I found a note from grandma, she doesn't want you to cry.
Hi grandpa, it’s me again!
The rocking chair is old and dusty
Do you remember the way grandma sat me on her lap?
Read many stories before I took a nap
How she enjoyed brushing my hair with her hands
Love the way she rocked me to sleep every night until I grew.
I stored your hearing aid away
Do you remember that special musical box in grandma's drawer?
I opened it last night, to watch the ballerina dance
I wish you could hear the tiny chimes grandma lived in
I hope you don’t mind, I’m keeping grandmothers favorite scarf.
I'm caressing grandma’s picture frame
Do you like the way she looked in that pretty sundress?
Grandpa, I miss the things grandmother did for you
I like the walking stick she handcrafted, the day your needed support
It kept you in balance every time we took long hikes in the woods.
Hello grandpa, it's me again!
Here I sit holding your hand
I have no more tears
Soon you will see grandma
Please tell her hi, and I know you will be there the day I die
Give grandma a kiss, and tell her I miss her
When I was a child I only ever wanted to be strong.
I wanted to be able to compete with the boys
and when I foot raced them at recess I won every time.
They called me ‘She Hulk’ because of my muscular frame
and from the way I only ever wore soccer t-shirts and sweat pants.
After that nickname was implanted into my brain like a growing weed,
I’ve only ever wanted to be feminine.
I started wearing skirts and dresses
and in middle school they shrieked at the site of my makeup and done up hair.
But that weed inside of my mind only grew, and grew, and grew
until I became a mixed drink cocktail
with one part anorexic and two parts lonely,
because I thought that the definition of feminine began with the word frail.
No one ever realizes how greatly words affect us,
how a simple nickname can turn a pretty girl into a skeleton.
I stood at five foot two weighing seventy nine pounds,
so cold and frozen,
yet I still considered myself a ‘She Hulk.’
You could see my ribcage through my t-shirt
and my spinal cord protruded loudly through my weathered skin,
as if somehow my bones were dirty knives
just trying to cut through the flesh of judgment.
As I grew older I became the girl that was never enough.
Not good enough to speak poetry.
Not good enough to lay paint on a canvas.
Not good enough.
Not tall enough.
Not big enough boobs for them.
Not primped to perfection.
Not undeniably straight.
Not smart enough.
Not dumb enough.
Not ditsy enough.
Not cool enough or fun enough.
And I began to believe, too, that I wasn’t enough.
I never told my mother that I had been in madly in love with a girl.
I never told anyone about the night we first kissed
because I was too vulnerable for the judgment.
And parents always justify saying that ‘kids will be kids’
But when we are kids our brains are still growing
and the smallest of seeds that get planted will one day bloom
into one giant regret,
will one day affect the choices that we make,
will one day influence us about the clothes that we wear,
will one day shape us into the person who we thought we would never be.
I only ever wanted to be strong,
and as a child I thought strength was only about being able
to lift a bar stool above your head.
I thought that strength was only about being able
to beat the boys in bare foot running races.
I was told that strength was something only
a man could have.
But as I’ve grown older I’ve realized that strength
isn’t about muscle at all,
but it’s about weakness,
and the ability to overcome the social anxiousness.
It’s about carrying around a lifetime of baggage
on your broken back
because the ones that kicked you when you were down
are going to be the ones that were ultimately wrong.
I thought that the definition of woman
began with the word disappointment.
And I became a mixed drink cocktail
with one part freedom
and two parts Sailor Jerry
because every girl needs a stiff drink once and awhile.
We are not disappointments.
We will never be the ones who gave up on hope.
We will never be the ones who gave up on each other,
or our mothers.
We will always be enough;
enough for the ones who shunned us
enough for the ones that cursed us
enough for the ones the hurt us
and destroyed us
and beat us when we were covered in bruises.
But you see, bruises fade
and the scars of our flesh are only stories
things we have overcame
and there are things out there that we will overcome.
When I was a child, I only ever wanted to be strong.
I hid my vulnerability.
I hid the parts of me that were true.
I never told my mother about my girlfriend
because I was afraid she wouldn’t understand,
kind of like all those people who never understood
just how much words effect us.
I can’t say that I can beat the boys at foot races anymore,
because, well, I smoke cigarettes now.
And I can’t say that the nickname of my childhood didn’t affect me.
But I take that name now and embrace it.
Because I am strong.
I am the ‘she hulk’.
I am a mixed drink cocktail
with three parts greatful.
It will hurt like a tattoo guns sting
as the ink infiltrates your skin.
Your first love will be like a tattoo on your heart,
always remembering the blessings and pain he gave you.
Be with a person who fills you with fluttering hummingbirds
even after the first and second and tenth kiss
who drinks the nectar of your demons and sucks them lifeless.
There will be men who you think will carry you forever
but after so long of holding
your feet above the water
they will throw you down.
They will not reach out a hand to pick you back up.
They will turn cheek,
kissless and forgotton.
You will stand with dirt palms
and fall back into his inferno.
There will be loves like this,
who convince you to prick yourself with safety pins,
the ones who carry guns on their backs
but never shoot to protect,
only to hurt.
The ones who drink all the water,
leave you parched in the desert of his mistakes
telling you that they are your own.
The ones who shoot arrows in your lungs
and you lye bleeding
believing that the color of your blood is true love for him.
The hour hand will spin around the clock
too many times before you leave him.
It will hurt.
You thought it was true,
but after the death of it
you will realize you deserve someone so much sweeter
than a bitter apple.
Love the one who doesn’t cheat you blind,
but instead comes to you with truths in his wretched palms
and waits for you to
but never gives up and never stops wishing that the past could rewind
that he could change the things wrong that he did to you.
Love the one who feeds your heart warm apple pie,
who cries in front of your children,
who drives them to school and hugs them when they get home.
Be with someone who doesn’t ask for you to change
but instead loves your mistakes
cradles them within his fabric lungs
breathes them in with a grin.
Love is an interesting thing.
You will be thrown out of a moving car to the side of the road.
Some will come running back to you.
Don’t jump back in the front seat,
until you find someone who buckles the seat belt for you.
Drives five under the speed limit,
takes things slowly and waits for you to be ready to accelerate.
I am here for you.
Remember me, the one who loved you first,
the one who will never stop loving you.
Come to me after he breaks up with you.
You can cry on my shoulder,
and ill wipe your tears with my sleeve.
Find a love who loves you the way
that your father and I love you,
the way that your grandmother loves you.
Find a love who already considers you family.
Who meets you
and looks into your ocean eyes
and drowns peacefully into your heart.
You came to me on angels wings
Your smile was so divine,
I looked into your big blue eyes
Not believing you were mine.
With skin so soft and hair of down
You came to me that day,
And as I held you on my breast
You stole my heart away.
Sweet child if you could ever know
The love I felt for you,
As the years flew quickly by
That love just grew and grew.
So I’ll just quietly watch you grow
Into a man my son.
I want you to know what a privilege it is
For me to be your mom.
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans
Gautami Phookans Contest:
The Sweetest Touches of Verse
From a babe to a man, I needed your hand. Now I understand, it was part of God's
ultimate plan. I was to be raised by another woman. Don't get me wrong, Grandmomma was something! She gave me all the love a child could need. She was always there for me. Truly a blessing! No Mother, you don't owe me a thing. Not even an explanation. I can't sing, so I wrote this dedication, tTo show my appreciation.
Momma, Momma you're still #1. No matter the distance; rRegardless of what you've done. As God is my witness, I'm still your son.
Yes I hold resentments, and that is hard to ignore. My hurt I can't hide. When
you kicked me out. And out of your three children, why was I the one you let go?
From afar you watched me grow. Did you worry about my well being? On the surface, looks can be deceiving. No, I was not well. I was actually a child living in hell. Easy for you to say "It's over, it's the past". I was forced to grow up too fast!
Momma, Momma you're still #1. No matter the distance. Regardless of what you've done. As God is my witness. I'm still your son.
I remember spending the night with you and that was such a treat, just to escape the hurt from being beat. Looking back it was a real tragedy. I felt you didn't love me. You were my Mother but you gave me up so easily. Grandmomma became my only family. The only person I could rely on. But now she's gone. Even now as a grown man, I feel so alone. If I could sing, this would be my song--
Momma, Momma you're my queen. For you I would do anything. I just want you to be proud of me. Whatever I've done, please accept my apology. I'm not perfect, never claimed to be.
But I am strong. Especially dealing with this pain for so long. I just hope we can finally be a family when I come home.
Dedicated to my Momma "Phyllis Ann Lopez"
Note: Thank you Poetry Soup for allowing me to share another piece of my life. From both
pieces "For Grandmomma" to this piece "For Momma" you can picture my relationships with
both women. My mother was far from perfect...But no one is perfect and I love her all the
Water rushing through the brook
leaving drowned out laughter
and a blooming lilypad
A mother with a weary look
as she wades through, feet clad
It’s her children she’s looking after
Hair threatens to fall in her distant eyes
She remembers when she hadn’t worried
stealing kisses under barnyard roofs
She begins to chastise
“Children put on your boots”
She raised the voice, and they scurried
But inside she was grinning ear to ear
Thinking of sweet-smelling memories
and grass-stained linen
As her children crawled near
She said, “Now listen,
I must share some stories…”
They needed help
Walking alone in the dark.
A broken down car.
The child frightened,
But not understanding
That would soon
Come her way.
Her parents petrified
That their baby was gone,
Over forbidden images
That crowded their way
Past ice cream sundays
And birthday parties
And wedding days.
A doer of good deeds.
He looks into
the little girl's eyes.
The girl speaks,
"This is not my dad"
And the coward
who took her,
Believing he saved
From a long, cold walk,
Saved a child
From a long, cold death.
To be called ..
~ Grandma is a Honor ~
I have been blessed with 4 Grandchildren
~ one lays in Heaven " Kaleb " He is God's Angel ~
~ His twin brother he will always watch over , and be in his soul~
For he loved his Brother so much in the womb ,
he chose Heaven which gave life to his twin
~ I feel his spirit when I see the other Grandson ~
Time passed another gift to see
we are " Mickes" and Loved
Our Dad held the title in Baseball
~ that's how we roll ~
those children are Grandmas hero's
The Irish they love big and Family is everything
The brothers will protect the beautiful sister
~ as many lads will be calling ~
Every time my Grandson hits a home run
There will be a Angel watching proudly in the stand
It will be as if the Angel lifted him when he runs
~no one runs faster then my Grandson~
either baseball or Art ~ you shall find your gift given
These children have been blessed~
~ a beauty to hard to describe
If you think not ~~ Take a look at the Mom
That girl can stop Traffic
after raising three and still~
"Inspired by the gift and loss of Grandchildren "
May our precious " Kaleb " softly rest where Angels only Dwell
A solitary piece the diamond
precious rare gem most treasured
by those lucky enough to hold
Once in possession it is rarely out of grasp
Like the gemstone the mother
requires very specific conditions
in holding fast her (family/) childrens love
Treasured forever in her heart
she will go out of her way
to preen and protect them
holding them dear to her
deep within her maternal safe – the heart
closely guarded by the mind
Her infatuation of all treasures to her
are totally understandable
especially when you think to the complexity
of structure and process taken in creation
Just as from the ‘unbreakable’ in ancient greek
this alletrope of carbon
with strength of bonding between atoms
is representative of that strong love
between mum and child
The maternal being could be compared
to the superlative physical qualities of the stone
Even the characteristic luster
of this gem so prevaient from its ability
to disperse light and colour
compared to the many strengths, roles and qualities
of the mother
seen by the many she deals with daily
A most high pressured job
versus the high pressured temperature
within the Earths mantle
that forms the delightful rock it gives birth to
Infants delight and ignite the forbearer
just as the jewel would dazzle the room
a mother’s love encaptures the magical luster
of those she’s birthed and nothing
stands inbetween this richest of cargo’s
My Son Moon and Star ~
Approaching the celebration of his Birth
cherishing the gift I received
within weeks of conception I knew
something amazing was in Creation ~
the Stars held a party
sending me with one of their own
Gazing at 3 shooting stars twinkling crossing the sky
It was magic It was destiny taking its flight.
In love with an October full moon
drawing and painting I liked
thinking of Vincent Van Gogh ~
caught in a loss of time
Hours going by as choosing my color
a wittness to three falling stars
A clear night sky sparkle's
A once Famous Star was sent
inspiring the tiny child inside ~
Never a doubt in my mind at all
child bearing was worth any pain received
yours will be in a pursuit of a dream ~
one to cherish and hold
My Son was born the following August ~
working on the set of Grimm 3rd season this year
as the set of Leverage for 3 years .
Has done a Indie movie here
In Paris it was seen and honored
coming soon filmed in Portland ~
"The House of Last Things "
awaiting the credits , you will see
1st Assistant Director ~ production assistant
My Young Lion Mans dream ~
A proud mom I watch every show and the credits
as foretold in a whisper to me 25 years ago
My Son & Moon and Star
A name you will all know ~
Happy Birthday to my creative Son
you will exist in my heart forever~
“Good-bye my daughter dear,” she said
As tears welled up in her eyes
“It’s time for me to go to sleep
This must be no surprise
The good Lord knows my battles
And my health is ailing still
He’s given me so many blessings
I’ve passed them to you in my will
I’m sad to say good-bye
For we have shared much joy
Remember me to Sarah
My grandchild I love and enjoy
I love you my daughter
These years together have been sweet
I’m so glad you love the Lord
And again we will meet
I’m not afraid of dying
‘Cause I know that in a while
Christ will call me from my grave
I feel my life has been worthwhile
For I taught you to seek your Father
To help you through every trial
He’ll always be there to guide you
With never a denial
I leave you in His hands”, she said
As she gently kissed her daughter’s hand
Her eyes closed very slowly
Against cancer she’d lost her stand
She’d been a wonderful mother
Teacher and true friend
Faithful to her Lord
And gracious to the end.
Copyright © Maureen LeFanue 2007-2012
Where are you now, my baby girl
You came into my life and changed my world
I had you in secret because no one could know
To whom you belonged
Whose seed was sown
You had to be hidden away
So no one would find out
My terrible secret
The one that kills me now
I don't know where you are
I don't know where you've gone
I don't know how in this world
I will be able to press on
You have been gone so many years
You are an adult now
Unaware of your secret
Not knowing my vow
My baby girl I miss you!
Even though I have never seen your eyes
They took you straight from me
And told me it was wise
I wish I could have held you
Before they took you away
No matter what I will find you
And with me always you will stay
I have gotten so many comments to this end and I wanted to ease everyone's mind that this is not autobiographical. I wanted to sincerely thank everyone for their heartfelt concern, but there is no need. This is (for me) only a poem and has no bearing in real life. Thanks so much everyone!
~Harridan in a Housecoat~
Four small children sent for care as their mother was taken so ill
No father could they reach for them so they were sent off at someone’s will
In the night taken from their beds, no word spoken, hearts full of dread
Taken to a town far away and not knowing what lay ahead.
A huge housecoat descended down like a crow devouring road kill
At the side stood a henchman, pointed nose, dark hair, and vengeful
Warning words left in theirs ears "be good or else there will be trouble"
“No one wants you now you know, not your parents” she burst that bubble.
The housecoat and the henchman dealt out their ghastly deeds
To three of the children she vented her spleen, her willing helper dealt her needs
The fourth child the baby, she showered with kisses and good food to eat
She bought her clothes and dressed her well, and spoke to her words so sweet.
The three all under the age of six did dread each and every night
When scrubbed with scrubbing brushes, their skin looking red raw and tight.
She had to get the scum off them because they were now in care
It was obvious that no one loved them, that’s why they were there.
Frightened and timid were the three, but the youngest was well looked after
Jealousy did form in the minds of the three - it robbed them of their laughter
The harridan in the housecoat with her willing henchman
Thought up little tortures finding the Achilles’ heels in each child one by one.
The housecoat and the henchman were in for big surprise
When the father sent for the children, she couldn’t believe her eyes
Bribery she tried on the siblings so the children would never tell
But there is not one that would condemn her to her well preached hell.
The housecoat and the henchman a mother and daughter no less
A good churchgoing family with their holy pictures to bless
Evil in their deeds of torture and of mental games
The harridan in the housecoat and the daughter with no name.
© ~GG~ 6/08/2012
A heart that cries more than me
in my pain.
Whose congenial and benign teachings
make me sane.
A warm touch that dispels from me
the gales of worry.
Whose proximity ensures me that I'm
protected by her under furry.
A helping hand that always hold me
whenever I'm about to lose.
& my first teacher who makes me to
distinguish between donts' and dos'.
A voice and nothing more, an Angel
who is entirely mine just after my birth.
And she is none other but 'My Mother',
The God on Earth.
Although to define her in words is
beyond my skill.
Nevertheless I can say that her pace in
my life, none can fill.
She is the one who needs not a single
word of me to understand.
In my devastation, she is always there
to provide effusively her hand.
In the weariness of my life, with her,
I may lose to be in link.
But she ever remembers me whenever I
breathe or my eyes blink.
I can say that in search of heaven,
I needn't to go anywhere.
I would like to put my head in my
mother's lap, as its only there..
I’m turning into mother
Eyebrows, nose, and lips.
Bosoms hanging, almost, to
my child bearing hips.
She’s grumpy and forgetful
And I’m growing much the same.
Tables now are turning
In the parent child game.
It’s me that does the cleaning,
Feeds and dresses too
Who always asks before we go
‘have you been to the loo’?
Her childlike ways increasing
throwing tantrums, snubbing food,
and me left to be patient
understanding, kind, and good
I’m turning into mother.
But the future I can see.
‘cos they tell me life’s a circle,
and soon, that child will be me.
It was eleventh day of December,
When heaven sent me a gift.
A precious gem I can treasure,
Until the last breath I take.
Ten years ago I reckon,
A stranger love stole my dream.
A vernal life I still fulfill,
was now written in Petals of Dream.
With no regrets and time to blame,
I embraced the future about to bring.
Tha hardest task that one should take,
a motherhood I've never been prepared..--
Until one morning I felt excruciating pain,
after long three trimesters that we're together,
It's like one whole day of dancing in the fire,
I had my newfound happiness sent by angels.--
Everyone can receive a luxury gifts,
a brilliant jewelries,a roundtrip cruise in earth.
But this gift I have received has a value nothing can replace,
My first ever daughter,Nina Ahyaessa Charlotte was her name.
***HAPPY 10TH birthday to my 1st daughter,Ahye****
those days the sun flew like corn flour
freshly ground at the millrace
even in winter it was yellow
when I pressed it down with my thumb
like an unfastened button on my chest
I hardly cut my way with a stick
through the tall weed field
until my knee high socks
were filled with thistle tassels
jumping over the fence like a thief
into our apple orchard
so no one knew where I was
when the Big Dipper rose over the barn
I slipped on the manger’s opening
inside freshly cut grass
stealing my grandma’s small chair for milking
singing for the young foal with caramel skin
those days all hearts were red and warm
in the shape of a gingerbread heart
each star was a story
whispered by fairies in the daffodils’ glade
As death creeps out of the darkness,
A mother becomes the rope in a (Tug of war.)
A child reaches to help its’ mother in her weakness,
And stares death in the eye with abhor.
The rope falls limp in sure defeat,
Yet the child pulls on the strength of heart.
Against the evilness and deceit,
Fighting with the will to not be apart.
The hooks of death on weary knees,
Shackling the arms, exposing vulnerability.
Screaming and crying the words of “please”
The mother rests with peace and tranquility.
A child left to battle life’s groans,
Preparing for the encounter and all its’ lour.
For one day she will meet Mr. Bones,
And she’ll be the rope in her child’s (Tug of war.)
Inspired by Brian’s Picture Poem’s Contest
Käthe Kollwitz, Death and the Woman (Tod und Frau), lithograph, 1910.
My little one don't be afraid
My two arms were softly made
To comfort you and keep you safe
Please put a smile on your face
And let me hug you sweet and tight
Whispering you'll be alright
In a low voice helping you
Know that I will pull you through
Making sure you understand
I will always hold your hand
Pulling you up with such care
Making troubles disappear
Out of sight now and forever
I will do my best to never
Let you down in any way
My love for you will always stay
In your heart never to leave
I want you to please believe
There is nothing I wont do
To prove how much I care for you
Every child has a parent and a story to be told, but not every child
Has two parents, two parents of gold.
So unselfish, so giving, so much love never ending.
Always there for us, always in support of us,
Without any questions asked of us.
Down the road still living their lives for us.
They would never think of giving up on us.
We truly were blessed the day God gave them to us.
For his hand to mold, a parent worth gold,
Is a child's story that's rarely told.
For God has made them human that's a fact.
They fault, they sadden, they even sin in anger,
But, what my siblings and I have learned from our Mother and Father
Is no matter what, support one another.
For if one is falling, just be there to catch, without any questions asked.
Life is not perfect and we may not be our parent that our children see,
But, we'll make sure that they see gold supports their destiny.
Prevail, yes we will, because forever we behold not one, but two,
"Parents of Gold".
She was at her window listening to the rain
Mind just wandering, immersed in pain
She was wondering if it was true that angels cry
Each time they see a child die
They took some tests but it was too late
It was in an area they couldn't operate
She smiled at him and hid her fear
They said at most another year
How much pain can a mother endure?
To look at her son and know there is no cure
There are no words that can even start
To soothe the pain in her broken heart
The days and nights went quickly past
The time had come he would breathe his last
Her faith was put to the supreme test
The day she laid her child to rest
She is alone and prays each day
The memory will forever stay
Sometimes in her prayers she just asks why
And she wonders if the angels cry.
From the book Voices of Hope.. Thank you Crystal.
Can I maintain this life
Without begging Christ
To save me
From the life he gave me
Can I walk to the plot
To where lays my father death spot
And stand over his grave
His life is with me acknowledgement
I’m is daughter but I wasn’t with him his last dying days
Tears seem to not fall from my eyes
Because I know emotion will not grow him back
And the last words that utter from my mouth will be with me until the day that I’m
dead they are now un-depart able bitter words that has now been said
They say Gods give you nothing you can’t bare
Trying time he’s given me trying times is in me
I dream of some better days
As a young child proven educate with good grades
Wanted to be a woman at a young age
Started working on my life
Tried to blackout every thing in my life that went wrong
Even as a minor I promise god that all my struggling was going to make me
But lost in the mine set that I had no one to carry with me
Turn my back on the people that had given me life
Told them I didn’t need them so forget their advice
I broke them down to the same feeling that rooted bitterness
Spoke for me took hostage over my pride
But each heart beat I wanted I wanted them to reach for me because all I wanted
was to be their child
They say Gods give you nothing you can’t bare
Trying times he’s given me trying times is in me
Fast I was moving
Tried I was getting
Still I wasn’t not going to stop
Because I will never give up
I instill in myself as long as I don’t misused my body and educate my mine
There was nothing that could harm me Nothing
Suddenly everything that I was reaching for turn around and ran from me
And for the first time in my life I wanted good to save me
I barely stop myself from falling to my knees begging him to free me
For now I could see
My daddy deceased
My mother sickly
And soon I will be a woman
For I will be no ones child
I feel as if I’m not ready
They say Gods give you nothing you cant bare
Trying time he’s given me trying times is in me
I do not know?
B eautiful boy
R ough at play
Y oung and curious
C uddly and loving
E normous energy
A ngel from heaven
L oving and loyal
I rresistibly huggable
A dorably cute
N eat and outgoing
A pple of our eye
I do not know?
Teenage Girls clad in the latest fashions,
Do it whenever they meet,
Grown men aren't afraid to show some passion,
When their team's comeback is complete,
They can say hello, they can say goodbye,
And anything inbetween,
If you open your arms and crack a smile,
There is nothing that a hug cannot mean.
Thank you – Zamreen Zarook
Thank you is a sweet word in the nature,
You may be a guy of adventure,
May be you are a person of agriculture,
What matters is your architecture.
Never forget the people, who guided you,
In no degree neglect who were with you,
Don’t ever overlook a creature, who gave a smile to you,
Because, you will meet them above you.
People forget the past due to selfishness,
They have no time to remember their unawareness,
Society, most of the times behave in awfulness,
They will understand when their lives come in to bitterness.
Be a person to thank and remember,
Don’t consider them as December,
Because, you might need them in November,
So, always be as a good subscriber.
I always thought that I knew love
How intense that feeling could be
But, you were my gift from above
Just exactly what I'd need
I never thought I'd be a mother
I thought that time had past
It was a shock to believe another
For I was pregnant at last
I was 39 at the time
I felt kind of tired and old
My doctor said that I was fine
And a child is precious like gold
It wasnt always very easy
Being pregnant, working each day
Some times I'd get kind of queasy
But, eventually it went away
Tests, ultrasounds, bloodwork , all were fine
An amnio to see if you were okay
Monthly appointments, filled much of my time
Everything was progressing each day
I worked until the day before
Your grandparents flew out to see
I was very ready, couldn't take no more
Wanted my child for just for me
Finally the day had come,when I was to see my son
I got up early, got everything ready, even checked your room.
Slowly I drove to the hospital ,awaiting for the fun
For this was it what I had waited for, i'd see you before noon.
At the hospital they readied me
A Doctor put a catheter in my back
My Mom and Dad rushed up to see
Their grandchild in a wrap
I told them of my nervousness
How I forgot the words to say
So together we as a family
We were able to pray
I had to wait for a long time
Emergency twins were on the way
They said I was next in line
In the holding room was where I stay
So at 930 they brought me in to the room
They draped a sheet in front of my face
I hoped my head wouldn't zoom
I wanted to start this race
At 9:54 you came into my life
Your Dad ran to the end to see
The child that was bore by his wife
We became a family of three
My eyes filled with tears and I felt joy
It was all so new, I never had felt it before
Here's your child, perfect, handsome, and its a boy
For on that day my love for you grew even more
The bond between a mother and son
Is a story that can't be told
To look into your little eyes, I was overcome
My memories of that first time will never get old
So on this day when you had came
Was the best day I could have ever thought
Never mind fortune and fame
To have a child is a lesson in life that can never ever be taught.
Dancing all around
Frolicking through fields
Just like you!
Close to his mother's warm naked breast
cradled a little treasure of a child
The peace of mind that only the small seed can feel
Thoughts and love shared in deep silence
A-L Andresen :)
My grandfather and I had a special relationship.
When I was young we lived near his home in Baltimore. But, my family moved away from
Baltimore when I was five and we lived most of my life in another state far away from my
grandfather. Whenever he called, however, I was the one grandchild he always wanted to
talk to so we could discuss his beloved Baltimore Orioles. I was the one grandchild who
followed sports closely and always remained a true Baltimore sports fan.
Later in life, I learned that my grandfather was actually a gifted baseball player himself when
he was young. In those days, he would explain, professional baseball players did not make
enough money to support a family so he had to make up his mind to either play baseball or
get married and raise a family. As it turned out, his love for baseball was only surpassed by
his love for my grandmother and, although he hung on to the newspaper clippings that
labeled him a “can’t miss professional baseball prospect”, he hung up his cleats and glove,
married my grandmother and went out to find a “real” job.
But his love for the game survived and year in and year out, he and I discussed the
intricacies of the game and enjoyed or lamented each baseball season based on the
successes and/or failures of the Baltimore Orioles. As crummy as the Baltimore bums are
today, I was fortunate enough to experience and share many more successful seasons than
poor ones during those limited years that I shared life with this amazing man.
I always felt sorry for my grandfather, considering him a victim of poor timing. Had he
been born about 50 years later in life, he would not have had to pick between being a
baseball player or earning a living – in fact, with his talent, he could have earned a much
better than average living while enjoying the one thing he loved most in life.
When my grandfather passed away, I was sure that he was joining a heavenly nine to once
again strap on his spikes and don the leather. Without a doubt, they must play baseball in
heaven. And I wait for the day that I sit in the heavenly bleachers and cheer on a young
grandfather playing this wonderful game with other boys of summer.
(Inspired by, “is there baseball in heaven”, by Constance, A Rambling Poet)
Elegy to Child Lost
Passion's love oft tempts despair
Casts a prideful cosmic dare--
Like Prizing Joy's most intimate caress
Babe snug beneath a mother's breast
Senses at this time are keen
There's no secret kept between
Loving mother, wriggling babe--
Wanted , dreamed of, much delayed
But entwined twin was also loved--
Some say Nature's method proves
That one twin may give all to mate---
But this fatal sacrifice must decimate.
Only mother's eyes would feel babe's smiles--
or sense those legs that wandered miles
And daring feet that danced in tunes while
Arms swam in gentle Celtic croons.
When babe vanished--not a sound.
Mother 's grief was not allowed.
Tempted so to trail behind
Escaping shattered troubled mind.
Squelching sorrow's hungry arms
She Tried erase babe's fluttering charms
Never spoke of-- never mourned.
By her husband she was warned
Was best forget a child so early lost--
Funerals, gravestones--such a cost--
But the years have called babe near,
Mother's journal writ in tears:
'Please forgive my selfish heart.
Repressed from all --this tragic part
I felt your sacrificial act--
You left your cherished twin intact'.
There is no law of random acts
Doctors examine data facts
It may be --that in the womb
When both spring flowers cannot bloom
One bold twin refrains to eat
Compels the other to complete
Hardy growth that life requires---
Sparks survival's crucial hours.
Not an accident 'tis sure--
Boldest spirits blossom pure.
Victoria Anderson-Throop ©