Best Christine Poems


Premium Member A Dedication To Christine

The Twin, Christine


Oh gorgeous Twin, my heart entwined
I searched the land but could not find
To win your heart I am inclined
Oh Twin, come Twin, my heart unwind.

		[Such glorious creature, rare to trace
		upon this Earth or out in space.
		So shines forth radiance in her grace
	And brighter still, that on her face.

		That I could share with her my life….
		In future time to be my wife….
		Let passion take us, wild and rife….
	And be our strength in times of strife.

		I plead to you ‘Christine, be wise!
		the man for you must be ‘too nice’.
		For all he gives cannot suffice
	And loving you - should tell no lies!]

So till you come, I’ll sit and wait
And pen a verse to life’s ornate
To you this song I dedicate
Come twin with me - don’t hesitate!

												 (The Fg 81.5.8)

Worse Than Christine

Worse Than Christine

I am a glutton for punishment, as you shall soon see,
I had an Austin Healey Sprite, or more rightly, it had Me!

Had I looked up the name in Webster’s, I would have known, oh, so well,
That to own and to drive one, was a short trip to Hell!

The word “Sprite” means disembodied spirit, or ghost,
I must say, spirit is what it had the most,

When I say “spirit,” you think that is good,
But I can tell you, only Evil lies under that hood!

Made in England, the wettest civilized country on Earth,
To not waterproof the ignition must have caused them great mirth!

To clean the windshield, I threw a cup of water on it, gave the wipers a tweak,
That miserable creation would not start for a week!

It was one of the smallest, by far,
Some folks did not believe that it was even a car!

There was an advantage to its size,
When the starter was broken(quite often), I could develop my thighs!

There were other parts, that when new, should have been in a dump,
It had the World’s worst, most cantankerous, electric fuel pump!

It would click a few times, then shudder, and stammer,
The only way to fix it, a blow from a hammer!

All the owners had one, tied under the hood,
The rock hard suspension hit the fuel pump real good!

Luckily, in Southern California, there is not too much rain,
Trying to put up the top, an adventure in pain!

I used to donate blood, but when I got the Sprite, I could not go,
Because of cuts and scratches from the top, I was always a quart low!

It was Pure Evil, with no endearing features,
But the final straw, for me, involved the most beautiful creatures,

Fathers would have been happy if they knew what I discovered one night,
It is ABSOLUTELY impossible to get a girl pregnant in an Austin Healey Sprite!

Premium Member Grandma Christine

July 23,2007
          A GrandDaughter born , a Gift from HEAVEN
       8# 1oz , 20 1/2inches long 5:43 CST She was born
        She is the morning SUNSHINE every single MORN
    She is the Light of my day, She is the Star of my Night
    She is the one that sets my HEART  in a Heavenly Flight
      So much LOVE, JOY  puts a universal smile on My FACE
           God gives me a LOVE I will always Embrace
                    HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY ANGEL

           Dedicated to  Christine Wessels and Family


Premium Member Your Truth - a Conversation With Christine Blasey Ford

Tell me your story, leave out no fact,
I’ll pose my questions with sympathy and tact,
You’re a brave woman with a pure heart,
If you’re now ready, breathe deeply and we’ll start.

You were fifteen, vulnerable and shy
Discovering life as every day went by,
Protected by the hearth of community and home,
Your world a few square miles from which you did not roam.

And then one day your confidence was shorn,
A callous act from which a pattern of anxiety was born;
Your silent tears prove anguish knows no bounds,
But I must be sure your memory has grounds.

The boy was Brett of that you have no doubt?
“The very one whose name from every rooftop I will shout.”
And yet for thirty years you didn’t tell a soul?
“My sadness couldn’t breathe from the innocence he stole.”

I’m told your friends know nothing of this day?
“I’m filled with sorrow as its pure truth that I now say.”
Your memory is shaky as to what happened when and where?
“Not a day goes by that anguish I don’t share.”

I can’t begin to feel the way you clearly do,
But looking in your eyes I see the terror’s true.
None can forgive the actions of this heel
That from his deed he could your joy so steal.

Whilst we can’t know it was the man you claim,
No doubt one did your soul unjustly maim;
Your trauma known, your burden shared
And through your truth a lesson clearly aired.

To Christine, 1972

Hotpants showing off tanned legs
as long as a June school day

Blonde pigtails framing wide eyes,
bluer than Peruvian opals

Cherry lips freeing sly smiles
that gleamed on those dark nights

Eager heart sharing ill fated love
with this lucky, grateful lover

For Christine

This poem is inspired by and 
dedicated to Christine Ha, 
MasterChef season three 
winner. 

Christine, I'd like to 
Sit and dream with you for a 
bit-
You, the story teller 
Me, the dreamer. 
I'd like to wash my heart 
In your evidence that 
There is colors and 
Meanings in this world. 

Did the sea urchin's 
Spine feel like the grass 
That so many wonderful 
dreamers 
Know all too well?  
I can picture them 
Purifying themselves in labor-
Some with their hands, 
Others with their heart.  

I imagine a sponge in your hands, 
Your fingers tightly squeezing 
And the splash that would reverberate 
As the water hit your soul.  
Then i imagine the sun reflecting off 
That image.  
And all I can do 
Is smile.


Christine Watts Watch

Up and Down Australia's Gold Coast
All the hotels are prone to boast:
"You can ask your host
For Marmite on toast
But beware the Vegemite ghost!"

Premium Member Forgetting Christine

Forgetting Christine

As a thorn would pierce the skin
And bury there, deep within
Childish was my love for her
Caught was I upon that spur

Was it but, her air of grace
Or that she was fair of face
Beauty with a sense of plain
Earthly built in every grain

As she passed the flowers dim
Grew brighter round her every rim
Their blooms alone to signify
An angel there was walking by

Her rebel spirit could not hide
The joy she brings upon her tide
A crest of wistful whisperings
From deep imagination springs

Still she lives there in my muse
Pouring thoughts, that refuse
To let her go from every scene
I’ll not forget my sweet Christine

Premium Member Christine

Called and chosen of God
Her trustful love for her saviour
Resting on his gracious mercy
Inwardly thoughtful and helpful
Such a faithful and loving wife
Truly wise and compassionate
Immeasurably full of constant love
Never failing true forever friend
Emblem of love's truest preciousness

(Dedication to my wife Christine.
Christine is special because she loves me unconditionally)

Christine Elizabeth

Two words that bellow in my head
like a bad dream i've yet to awake from,
chasing me like a run away locomotive.
Much anger in these (what should be) two
beautiful words, leaves me numb to the feeling
of real pain.
This woman who would love.comfort and protect
others yet spits her venom on my life...

Fast forward forty nine years, time to awake
and step safely into the comforting arms of my
own creation...

Chrissy Beth...

A nightmare no more...





Written for a poetry contest about real names

Christine

Half a lifetime spent in search of purpose we ponder every reason
In the weather cycles term of life mine came in summer season
Suddenly my eyes were a path to my heart a glimpse of life's high fashion
It was a smile you see ignited hope and awakened sleeping passion
No flash of light nor harmonic sounds just a long sought peaceful feeling
And for my aching heart a wistful lift for my soul a perfect healing
Now as the cycle goes from summer to fall I have you to share my life
And the winters chill we sometimes fear I now cherish with you my wife
So I thank the lord for this special gift he's given me to cherish
Knowing leaves will turn and snow will fall yet our love will never perish

Christine

Christine has social phobia

She doesn’t like to go outside

She is cooped up inside all day,

Hunched over a book or on the

Computer. Her days are filled

With boredom and gloom.

At the mere age of 12, she is

Accustomed to the world

That is the inside of her own

Home. She has no goals

No life, no hopes, no dreams,

She is trapped inside a box

And she can’t seem to get out

And that angers her

She hates herself for being this

Way, she wishes she could be like

Other kids. Her parents don’t care,

In fact they barely notice that she’s

There. She wonders if this is all life

Has in store for her, and for the first time

In her life, she hopes, she prays that

She’ll change.

Premium Member To Christine

Lay your head upon my shoulder.
Tears are heavy, your battle great.
You’ve fought the fight.
You’re in our arms to rest.
We carry you at last, at last,
The end in sight,
Into the darkness of the night.
May God accept you peaceably .
May your heart be beating,
Beneath His awesome wings.
I hope your wings soar.
Whispering “I love you.”
Hope you hear it…
All the love we can give
It’s all we can give.
It’s everything.

4/28/2021

Premium Member Happy Christmas Christine Again

So many years have gone past
that together we’ve dearly shared
at Christmas time so especially
we remember together always paired

So happy as one we have been
maybe there’s been ups and downs
but knowing God is at our side
providing all His graceful crowns

This Christmas we can look back
especially over the past 12 months
being with us during every step
our Lord was faithful more than once

So have a happy Christmas again
many thanks for all your love
for all our Christmas’s together
our love touches us both like a glove

(My Christmas poem for my lovely wife Christine having shared over 31 years and more together.)

Owed To Christine Blasey Ford

OWED TO CHRISTINE BLASEY FORD  

Christine Blasey Ford
You fill me with awe,
I'll never forget
What I heard and saw
When you first appeared
Before all those men -
Spoke truth to power
Again and again.
You filled me with pride
Yes - even with bliss,
I yearned to hug you
And give you a kiss.
Riddled with fear, and
Entrenched in the dark
You dared to come out
And you lit a spark
In all of us women
And in men, too,
Who were too afraid
To be brave, like you.
God bless you and keep
That courage, that spark,
Because, Doctor Ford, 
You're my Joan of Arc!

.

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