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Best Poems Written by Cathy Strackbein

Below are the all-time best Cathy Strackbein poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Cathy Strackbein Poem

If I Were a Mermaid

If I were a Mermaid

If I were a Mermaid my name would be Margo and I’d live in the deepest blue sea 
 I’d swim with the dolphins, make friends with the sharks and hope that they wouldn’t eat me

If I were a Mermaid my tail would be gold and my hair would be crimson red
I’d hold it in place with fishbones I found buried deep in the seabed

If I were a Mermaid I’d go to school in a cavern by the bay
My classmates would be clownfish and squid
The teacher a grumpy stingray

If I were a Mermaid I’d frolic and play with the creatures of the sea
The lobsters and shrimp the whales and the crabs
the  eels and shy  manatees

If I were a Mermaid I’d spend my days watching ships as they travel afar
I’d spend my nights on warm sandy beaches
Making wishes upon shooting stars

If I were a Mermaid I’d dream of pirates and the treasures that they sought
I’d dream of their ships with their  tattered white sails and the battles  that they fought

If I were a mermaid I would do all these things in my
Home beneath the sea 
But I’m not really a mermaid so I’ll  just be content
To be the one and only ME

Details | Cathy Strackbein Poem

What Makes a House Haunted

What makes a house haunted?

What makes a haunted house haunted
is a question I often ponder.
Is it because it’s abandoned, on the verge of collapse
or because it’s where ghosts like to wander?
I wonder if it’s because of the way that it looks
that earns it a haunted house label.
Is it the dingy brown siding, the missing front door
Or the mysterious death of poor Mabel?
Or what if it’s just the address it has
That gives it a haunted house tag.
Is it the number 13, the name of the road (Cemetery)
Or  because its home to a black cat and her hag ?

I often imagine it’s the sounds that it makes
That give it the haunted house name.
Is it the old creaking floors, the rattle of doors
Or  because the dead are just playing their games?
I guess to get answers to all of my questions
I’ll have to get up the courage  to find 
An empty old house that’s missing its door 
And pray its inhabitants are kind.

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I Am

I Am

I am
I am 
I know that I am,
A daughter
A granddaughter
A sister
A niece
A cousin
A friend
And someone’s aunt.

I am
I am
I know that I am,
A girlfriend
A wife
A daughter in-law
A sister in-law
And once again an aunt.

I am
I am
 I know that I am,
A mother 
A grandmother
A great grandmother too.

I am
I am
I know that I am
 A Woman
 A Person
Who loves and is loved
I am 
I am 
I know that I am
I am me !!!

C. Strackbein

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The Reason For the Season

The Reason for the Season

He is the reason for the season
He's the star upon the tree
He was born in a stable on Christmas Day
To rescue you and me
The shepherds gathered, the angels sang
The Wise men brought their gold
They came to witness the holy birth
As it had been foretold
The oxen, sheep and donkey
Stood silently in awe
Watching over the miracle
Nestled in the straw
The Prince of Peace, The King of Kings
Our Savior had been born
In the city of David
On this most joyous morn.

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The Turquoise Garden

The Turquoise Garden

I dream of a magical garden
 That lays beneath a turquoise sea
It’s filled with seashells and cockles
And  sand the color of honeybees

The coral is the shade of pink  roses
 The grass is emerald green
Rocks and sea urchins cover the floor
The shy octopus is unseen

It’s home to fish in orange clown suits
Angels without their harps 
trumpetfish without their trumpets
 And lions without their manes

The seahorses and sea dragons
join the jellyfish and shrimp
In games of tag and hide and seek
In  the tunnels of  secret caves

Pretty mermaids with their tails of gold
and locks of crimson red
Gather delicate  pearls they find
In the garden’s oyster beds

It’s a magical place that I dream of
Filled with the creatures of the deep
And I hope someday I’ll find my way 
To the garden in the turquoise sea

Details | Cathy Strackbein Poem

Cathy's Lament

Cathy’s Lament

I shop because I have to
I bake because it's tradition 
I wrap the presents
Put up the lights
And the stress of it all 
Keeps me up every night.
I clean the house till it sparkles and shines
Cook for days and buy plenty of wine
Shop for a tree making sure that it's right
And the stress of it all keeps me up every night.
The cards are all sent did I forget anyone
The tree is up the ornaments hung
The lights are on but they aren’t very bright
And the stress of it all keeps me up every night.
The stockings need hanging the door needs a wreath
The cats’ on the counter the dogs’ underneath
The gifts have been wrapped and are hid out of sight
And the stress of it all keeps me up every night.
The day finally comes we all gather here
The presents are opened all in good cheer
The food has been eaten the wine didn’t last
We fondly remember our Christmases past
The children all napping their eyes closed tight 
And the stress of it all will be gone by tonight

						Cathy Strackbein
							12/17/14

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The Warning

The Warning!
I dream about dark shadowy figures
They are pulling and clawing at me
 Trying to pull me down into a void 
I wake in a cold sweat  shaking
My heart pounding in my chest
My face wet from tears 
Tears I don’t remember crying
I find it hard to breathe 
I struggle to fill my lungs
I force my eyes open 
Why can’t I see 
I panic 
In my  panic I try to think 
What, where, why, floods my mind
Questions I can’t answer
Finally I am awake 
I think to myself what
What is the dream telling me
Where is this void
Why are dark shadows pulling at me
I am scared, scared to go back to sleep
Scared not to
Daylight finally comes
I fill my day with chores and errands
The dream forgotten
How did it get so late, I don’t like the dark
I don’t stay out past dark
I have to get home 
I hurry past an ally 
I don’t like allies
 It’s  hard to see but I see
 something moving 
 shadows are moving in the ally
Why do they look familiar
The dream my dream
Comes flooding back
The shadows surround me
I can feel them pulling and clawing
I scream and scream and scream
 But  I know 
No one hears me

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The Beast

The Beast
It rose one dreary morning from 
the cavern where it slept
unfurled its wings and took to flight
across the countryside it swept.
With ghostly eyes and blood-stained fangs 
from deep within its gullet came
screams of torture, cries of pain
 sounds to drive a soul insane.
It spread its evil through the land
sustained by the fear of all mankind
spurred to destroy what lay in its path
not a body was spared its hate or its wrath. 
It ravished cities, towns, and villages
seeped into their dreams and their daytime awaking
it stole their peace and their well being 
and left them nothing but the sounds of their screaming.
It quenched its thirst with the tears of the living
filled its gut with the flesh of the dying
 stole the voices of the innocent
and roared to them “your death is imminent.”
It sunk its claws into their hearts
plucked out their eyes and left them for dead
Peeled back skin to expose their bones
And danced with glee to the music of their groans.

Back to its cavern it finally crept
burrowed down to renew its strength
resting there to patiently wait
for poor lost souls to meet their fate.
It will come again one dreary morn
unfurl its wings and take to flight
across the countryside it will sweep
and in its path mankind will weep.

Details | Cathy Strackbein Poem

Gnarled Hands

Gnarled hands

With hands gnarled from age
She works the soil
slowly, sometimes painfully
with determination.
She is driven to show them,
they think she’s too old.
“Let us do it “  they chirp.
“We’re young and strong
it won’t take us long.”
She sits and watches
Remembering the joy
The satisfaction
 The pleasure
 damp rich soil brought her.
 This is her serenity, her peace her joy!
They finish the work she started.
Did it bring them the same feelings?
To them, it was just work
A task, Get it done they said.
That’s their mantra 
“Just get the job done”.
They say their goodbyes,
Pecks on her cheek
Gentle hugs, she’s frail you know.
They leave her,
she sits for a minute,
sits in her beloved garden.
Looking over their work
she sighs.
They don’t get it, they don’t get her!
She kneels on sore knees,
immerses herself in the feel of the dirt,
works the soil with those gnarled hands
soaking up the sun,
 listening to the sounds of the garden
Rejoicing in the day!
She plants seeds she hid in her pocket,
hidden from them.
She says a silent thank you to them
for caring and worrying about her.
She knows they mean well
They just don’t understand.

Details | Cathy Strackbein Poem

Silken Thread

Silken Thread

Come and sit spider whispered, rest upon my silken thread
Tarry here within my artwork, naught a fear for you to dread

Sorry Miss the fly called softly, your silken thread is but a trap
I will rest among the roses, breathe perfume and taste their sap

Please be careful whispered spider, of the thorns along their stems
For I fear that you will find them, harsher than my silken thread

Thank you Miss the fly called softly, among the roses I will stay
For I know what fate awaits me 
Should I tarry long, on silken thread