Long Reunions Poems
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When siblings reminisce, it's strange
Which memories they share.
Though certain details match,
Exact comparisons are rare.
Two of us can almost taste
That soggy toaster bacon;
Yet the third one's positive
That we must be mistaken.
Other memories bubble up;
We reach into our brains
To see which scenes have disappeared
And learn what truth remains.
Reality is tricky, though.
What meant a lot to me
Might not have mattered to my sibs
To quite the same degree.
The beauty of reunions is
The chance to reconnect.
In reaching back across the years,
We can't be circumspect.
And so we laugh, excluding all
Outside our sibling glue.
We slip into our younger selves,
As siblings often do.
But I am not surprised to see
That distance, time and age
Have not affected what to others
Might be hard to gauge:
That childhood's bond, still strong and tight,
Which fills me with affection,
Will always be, at least for me,
A permanent connection.
Over the years
some were carefully carried
tied up in tiny bundles
held tight against the heart
While the other
more awkward ones
were pulled behind in a cart
like so many precious parcels
taken along for the ride
But a few fell
and rolled astray
off by the wayside
along the way
Some were missed
right away
with heartaches and tears
While others were
eventually missed
after some years
And some not noticed at all
I see people now and then
rummaging around
by the wayside
for what they've lost-
Some with long, sharp sticks
poking, prodding absentmindedly
collecting debris
Some on hands and knees
with brush and trowel
excavating so carefully... but-
Most of the time
the wayside is no place
for happy reunions
Often what was lost
if it was, indeed, of value at all
will not still be there
after some years
but snatched up and carried away
with care, by another who
saw its worth
Or degraded past
the point of repair
until what was lost
can never be recaptured
or replaced
Or sometimes what was 'lost'
simply wasn't worth keeping
in the first place
but purposefully discarded
cast off like old garments
too uncomfortable to wear
Relationships too heavy to bear
tainted by disrespect
dishonesty, neglect
subtle streams of unkindness
ever-so-slightly visible envy
marking their faces
like red flags
But the idea of
something having been lost
is powerful, and nags
at our hearts 'til we forget-
these things and their cost
yes, we forget-
Most of the time
the wayside is no place
for happy reunions
Radiating triumphant hope
Midst mercy, peace and joy to cope
Propelling heart for grateful height…
Such is God’s love* of blest delight.
Moving hearts toward service glow
Sharing goodness midst supply-flow
With trust that kindles kindness’ flight…
Such is God’s love of blest delight.
Upholding compassionate stand
Willing to lend a helping hand
Along sweet warmth of caring might…
Such is God’s love of blest delight.
Bonding brethren for fellowship
Reunions kindling partnership
Toward revival prayer plight…
Such is God’s love of blest delight.
Enjoying contentment with grace
In reaching-out, propped by faith’s brace
We thank the Lord for wisdom-light…
Such is God’s love of blest delight.
“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” John 3:16 of King James Bible
November 24, 2023
2nd place, "LOVE JONES" Poetry Writing Premiere Contest
Sponsored by Karen Jones; judged on 12/3/2023
Summer Cooking
Loud cheerful sounds are heard under a pavilion
as family has united for a family reunion.
Always held in shorts and swimsuit summer weather
in a park surrounded by a forest of evergreens and a snaking river.
It's always potluck, so there is always plenty of food to go around.
Deviled eggs, a variety of pasta salads, and mounds of potato salads,
barbecue hamburgers and hot dogs, fried chicken,
smoked venison, fish, and wild hog.
A choice of wonderful, sinful, yummy desserts,
and ice coolers full of a variety of drinks.
Family reunions, a great time to see both familiar
and new faces and catch up on the latest gossip of everyone's lives.
7/2/2018
Poetry Contest: A Poem NA'd in a July Contest (Judged July 1-24, 2018)
Sponsored by: Dear Heart a.k.a. Broken Wings
N/A Summer Cooking 7/19/2018
When I say who are 'close ones'?
Of course the people who are in our long runs.
Be it parent or sibling or someone close,
They’re the ones who stay when it matters most.
But what if they become the reason for you to cry?
It's just not every tear is seen falling from the eye.
Father's bond is full of protection and completely warm,
What if he becomes the reason harm and storm?
Grandparents, uncles, aunts—symbols of care,
But what if their words leave you in despair?
Cousin reunions—moments we boast,
But what if they treat you like a rival, not close?
Friends' betrayal is another side of the glass,
But what if they make the person feel embarassed in the whole class.
You never know who goes through what,
The biggest smiles hide their feelings a lot.
Everyone don't get the same love, the same motivation, the same affection,
Stay blessed if you don't know the other side of this connection.
The biggest scars come from the closest relations is indeed true ,
But it comes from experiences known to only few.
And if you’ve never known this kind of pain,
Be thankful—you’ve been spared that rain.
Because you never know how someone survives each day,
With a thousand reasons to just walk away.
Sisters and brothers, a curious pair,
Sometimes they love, and sometimes they glare.
Hand in hand, they explore the world,
Or argue whose flag should be unfurled.
Giggles erupt over secret jokes,
Then squabbles brew like stormy folks.
Building forts with pillows and sheets,
Sharing whispers and sweet treats.
Wrestling matches on the floor,
Slamming doors, then making s'mores.
Borrowing clothes without asking first,
Feeling both blessed and sometimes cursed.
Adventures shared, both big and small,
Catching each other when they fall.
Missing deeply when apart,
Reunions that warm the heart.
Years fly by, they sprout and grow,
Their bond evolves and continues to flow.
From rivalry to strongest friends,
The sibling journey never ends.
Through laughter, tears, and wonder too,
They shape each other, through and through.
A complex love, a lasting tie,
Siblings' bond will never die.
AHA HAIKU 5
Word after word
Not much said;
Top-up empty
~~~~~~~~~
Mind over matter
Easy breezy dance;
Plumeria colours
~~~~~~~~~
Moments solidify
Faces in a chase;
Transitory
~~~~~~~~~
Silence percolates
Coffee cuppa surprise;
Caffeine illumination
~~~~~~~~~
He said
She said;
Love unpaid
~~~~~~~~~
Mother dead
Father died;
Orphan child
~~~~~~~~~
Sad cheer distracts
Joy smiles empty;
Fleeting sway
~~~~~~~~~
Happy journey
China perspectives;
Returning home
~~~~~~~~~
Airport terminal
Happy reunions;
Feelings feast
~~~~~~~~~
Not much to say
Silence speaks more;
Smiles for words
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
19 May 2016
Singapore
Three sisters have I who make me so glad,
and all of us have the same mom and dad.
But there is another sister I claim.
Our fathers happen to not be the same.
This sister – the youngest in our family -
is called my half-sister, technically!
No difference this makes though I left home when
she, at that time, was much younger than ten.
As the oldest, I spent so much less time
with her than with other sisters of mine.
Now knowing her better, I have no doubt
that leaving home early, I really missed out.
I missed all those years when she was in school,
the great things she did, and things she found cool.
Dance lessons my sister took – same as me!
Each other’s recitals we did not see.
I missed out on watching her turn into
a splendid young woman as the years flew.
I ended up living so far away
my kids had no cousins with whom to play.
A few rare reunions in my home state
were times for which I hardly could wait.
My dear baby sister I then got to know.
If only I’d gotten to see her kids grow.
She has a son Sammy whom I adore.
He lives near MY state, so his mom I see more.
When she visits her son out here in the west,
I spend time with her. Those times are the best!
We have much in common, and with our kids grown,
we’ve got lots of time to chat on the phone.
Theadora – though a half-sister – SHE
is in every way a whole sister to ME!
Oct. 23, 2020
NA in the 'From the Heart' Poetry Contest of Regina McIntosh
Now for 'HM's and NA's October 2020' Contest of Constance La France
Deep in his heart had urgent need to go just one last time,
To place where he grew up; would childhood memories rebound?
Went with fear and misgivings; was he wise or asinine?
Step after step, he strolled over boyhood holy ground.
His old home place caved in; slowly declining to dust.
Gone forever the barnyard, where country kids had a blast.
The old barn had fallen down; tin roof was going to rust.
Rural glory censored; now archived in the past.
Old outhouse lay shambles as he passed it on the path.
Priceless memories of his childhood flashed through his mind.
There he would hide out, read comics, and have a million laughs,
In the ole two-hole potty, the one-half bath of its time.
Quite amused, he recalled, when one was installed,
Inside the house; a porcelain potty, shiny and clean!
Could use paper off a roll; not tear leaf from catalog!
Thought of whole house smelling of exotic soaps and chlorine.
Went down a lane where ‘bacco’ was cured in old log barn.
Thoughts of days running at leisure through the tall longleaf pines,
School breaks, church picnics, flirting with girls, fishing in a pond,
Family reunions, grandma’s house, all these ran though his mind.
The fields were lush and green; farmers co-ops now the regime.
Small farmer could not compete with “Goliath” of the day.
End of humble rural everyday life had not been foreseen.
A titan enterprise took his utopia away.
Thoughts of yesteryear began to give way to those of today,
Dealt with facts of the present; rightly the best prescription.
Would not dwell on good ole days; that would merely delay,
Healing of grief for spent past; stay future’s key redemption.
Went away with a pining heart, a woeful mood within,
Recalling a time rich for a boy raised on the farm,
Loving the good land, his family, neighbors and dear friends,
Wishing each child understood farmland’s magnificent charm.
She grouched, grumbled, griped and groaned.
We complained about her complaining.
She was a pain
Still we lugged her around to all family reunions
She could clear a good story off a picnic table in seconds
Replacing it with something dour, dank, disgusting and depressing
She is our great Aunt Constance Bee.
Here she comes now, watch the relatives scatter.
Same attitude, same gripes, same wheezing and sneezing.
She walks toward us one leg at a time, bearing down with a hard look.
You have to admit she is consistent, mother says.
She has enough consistencies to be predictive, actually.
On a good note, we know if we bring her, we do not have to stay forever.
The rest of them clap as we get up to leave;
which makes it easier to get out the door.
Which may be why we always bring Aunt Constance Bee.