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Charles Henderson Poem
The cottage reeks with
fluid tides of hope,
incessantly commanding.
My baby’s here.
I’ve still no word
coming down the line from Dover.
Winter’s gone...
Spring rains have come
and with it comes the tears all over.
I weep again, my child it seems,
will never know her father.
Today down by the spring
I prayed the prayer so often said,
sorrow turned desperation.
I found a ring left in the cup, since
yesterday laying there, scribed “M”
upon a jeweled stone.
My heart leaped in
expectation.
I heard his voice inside my head,
where also his face I saw.
I turned and looked...
no one was there...
please God give me
this one discretion.
There must be peace somewhere to find.
I look but must be led
by your grace and mercy.
Again at chores, the babe
asleep, the knock came loudly.
A letter from Michael O’brian maam,
please sign here for delivery.
I hurriedly skimmed,
he was dead,
two days before,
of pneumonia.
Our little Rose, still in my care,
to receive his name
if she so chose
and all else he owned in Dover.
A ring for me
it seems was gone,
a large garnet with the letter M
on the stone, had disappeared
completely.
EPILOGUE:
A seed was planted in winter,
planted in sweetness of youth.
It was a gift from Michael.
He left me alone in the spring---yet,
his flower grew in my garden.
Our error was human.
First feeling trapped, then love,
from this Rose in my life.
Forgiveness is divine.
Love is eternal.
11 Jan 2011 Charles Henderson
Copyright © Charles Henderson | Year Posted 2011
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Charles Henderson Poem
a small boy's
head in alphabet soup --
catching a few zzz's
Copyright © Charles Henderson | Year Posted 2012
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Charles Henderson Poem
riding on
a puff of wind
dandelion spore
Copyright © Charles Henderson | Year Posted 2016
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Charles Henderson Poem
the bare branch
as with other things
the mystery is gone
Copyright © Charles Henderson | Year Posted 2014
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Charles Henderson Poem
devil’s gift
fruit of deception....
schemer’s forte
© Sep 14 2010 Charles Henderson
3 rd in Chris' Senryu contest
Copyright © Charles Henderson | Year Posted 2010
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Charles Henderson Poem
Roses,
where are they?
Spring
rains
on my picnic.
Copyright © Charles Henderson | Year Posted 2016
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Charles Henderson Poem
It’s nice to get away
for a few hours or a day
As soft breezes stir night air
And salty mist clings to your hair
Stirring memories of Adolescence at play.
It’s nice to have the chance
to hear the song, to do the dance
And though we far exceed our prime
We light our path with love, stopping time
stopping space, and fuel the flame of our romance.
It’s nice in morning rain
to find that spot on memory lane
To look at who, what, where we are from.
While waves and breeze and the noonday sun
Sooth and calm, tan, bleach and burn away our pain.
It’s nice to turn away
From the things old and gray;
And we miss those times at the shore.
But truth is, we like our life now lots more
And we won’t trade tomorrow for all of yesterday
Feb 21 2010 Charles Henderson
Copyright © Charles Henderson | Year Posted 2010
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Charles Henderson Poem
Today I saw a daughter laid to rest.
A mother tries to heed her own advice.
Holding it in surely put her to the test.
She failed more than once or twice.
Her failing was no artificial device.
She tried, Lord how hard she tried.
She simply could not pay the price.
She cried, oh how the mother cried.
She was a fifth grade teacher, the best.
The kids all sought her out for advice.
Fifty Eight, so young but so blessed,
too young, to pay this enormous price,
too old to fashion protective gneiss.
Her mother knew of this fierce pride.
Yet, she couldn’t save her baby’s life.
She cried, oh how the mother cried.
The building now full, still they pressed,
her former students, learning pain of life.
From one loved, who had faced the test,
and had not complained about sacrifice.
While a mother mortally wounded twice
who faced this when her husband died
hopes to God she will not see this thrice.
She cried, oh how the mother cried
The mother, paying the mother’s price,
before her eyes could have fully dried.
With more than enough love to suffice,
she cried, and oh how the mother cried.
For Catie's ballade contest
Feb 22, 2011
Copyright © Charles Henderson | Year Posted 2011
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Charles Henderson Poem
friend to friend
maybe we should fight
our own windmills
Copyright © Charles Henderson | Year Posted 2012
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Charles Henderson Poem
a pelican dives
the stillness of ebb tide
broken
Copyright © Charles Henderson | Year Posted 2012
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