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Carolyn Henderson Poem
They were married for sixty-seven years.
Lovely she still was to him,
though wrinkled of face and hair of pure snow.
Entwined hearts forever held sparkle and glow.
Honestly believing, he was the luckiest man alive.
Just thankful to be by her side,
sharing her life and giving her all that he could.
But fate did loom, bringing unmerciful doom....
she died a long time too soon....
leaving a lonely and broken-hearted man.
To his son, he said, "Say it ain’t so, Joe!
Just say it ain’t so!
She can’t be gone.
She’s been with me so long.
What can I do without her?"
As news spread throughout the town,
many a friend came to call.
He tried to maintain, but three months away,
his heart just couldn’t withstand.....he died that day.
Mourned, his daughter to her brother, amid flowing tears:
"Say it ain’t so, Joe!
Please say it ain’t so!"
CATCH PHRASE: SAY IT AIN'T SO, JOE
Contest Sponsored by: Deborah Guzzi
Won: 5th Place
Copyright © Carolyn Henderson | Year Posted 2010
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Carolyn Henderson Poem
The flight had been long
as the jet soared through night.
My neighbors were lifelessly still,
weary for sleep, the night would fulfill,
and morning would graciously greet.
High up in space, I silently watch
as the sky passes from the deep.
Moving at its pace, much lighter still,
the sun, birthing change at will.
I must await, new dawning is nigh.
Daybreak speaks in a soft faint glow,
appearing shyly on the far horizon.
But in a blink of the eye,
God painted the sky,
with tones found in welcomed aurora.
Sweet blush of spring, orchids in bloom,
purple mystery in dawn’s warm glow,
rainbow tints on a panoramic screen
vividly show this God-given scene,
molded in joy and heavenly peace.
I placed my hand on the window pane,
watching white billowy clouds afloat.
God gave us his all and gave us his best.
On this soft tenderness, I could rest
if my hand could but touch.
Far above where angelic clouds surround,
the plane adrift or afloat,
clinging both far beyond and below
in this ocean of fresh fallen snow,
welcoming us into the light.
Such a spectacular sight to behold!
Sun-lit clouds dressed in white,
the scene so enameled with grace,
seemed to foretell that heavenly place,
where he awaits with pallette in hand.
I stayed three weeks and traveled far,
saw beautiful views and noted places,
but none can compare to that morning’s
glory in dawning.
Thank you God for all creation!
Copyright © Carolyn Henderson | Year Posted 2010
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Carolyn Henderson Poem
We were best friends,
and I was so proud.
She was my mother,
and I was her child.
Then fateful words were spoken aloud,
diagnosis with dire consequences.
Changes came day by day,
remembrances lost, with pretend defenses.
Simple tasks became great chores,
challenges were impossibilities.
Alzheimer’s had captured her life,
and I... unprepared for probabilities.
Always searching for home,
caused her to wander and roam.
Fences, gates and locked doors,
for her protection we had to condone.
I was with her every day.
I wish she had been there, too.
We walked in her garden.
The question came, “Now, who are you?"
God needed her in heaven, but in his
great wisdom knew I needed a while.
He graciously conceded and gave compromise.
He took her spirit, and gave me a special child.
I gave her baths.
I combed her hair,
I clothed, fed, and put her to bed;
God and I sitting till morning air.
That fateful day sadly arrived,
filled with such pain and sorrow.
Goodbye my friend, my mother... my special child.
I’ll see you again tomorrow!
Sweet memories I’ve treasured since that day,
thank you for time to sort them in place.
I am now more endeared to those times long ago
when I was a child and she washed my face.
April 2, 2010
Copyright © Carolyn Henderson | Year Posted 2010
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Carolyn Henderson Poem
Under canopy of majestic oaks,
leaves swaying, gentle breeze,
rustling of the dancing leaves,
flying chirps, all species,
joyous laughter, melodic sounds,
like violins, bees abound,
peace surrounds
in backyard paradise.
As I partake of nature’s scene,
eyes affix whites, magnolia high,
reminisce of mother in the sky.
Lessons of nature, she did give,
exploration through wooded path,
wild flowers we did name,
birds’ identity, toadstools find,
love of nature by her design.
Won HM in Mac McGovern's
Best Poem Contest
June 10, 2010
Copyright © Carolyn Henderson | Year Posted 2010
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Carolyn Henderson Poem
My son and his family drove down from the big city,
out to the countryside with open fields and steams.
They brought their standard golden poodle along,
a curly-haired fellow, name of Timmy.
Timmy had never seen a cat;
not even a mole or a furry rat.
Visiting country kin, he was checking things out.
Everything went fine that very first day.
Cats went about paying him no mind.
He walked about just passing time.
On that second day there was a big mistake.
Being a city dog with more worldy ways,
to add pleasure to his hum-drum days,
he thought it time to befriend these country kin.
The cats had never seen a dog this small,
only those on stilts, big, long and tall,
like Pyrenees, big wide mouths and teeth to match.
With barking big dogs on the scene,
up a tree they squirreled, never to be seen.
But this golden-haired fellow, with city clout--
they’d give him benefit of instinctive doubt.
Mama cat was even so bold
to sniff this city slicker right on the nose.
Sizing him up all the while, a friendly rat, she surmised,
a might bigger than some she had seen,
playing cat and mouse, yet acting so coy;
that is, until that overgrown golden-haired rat
walked up to Mama’s black baby boy.
Mama’s two other sons, another black and a blue,
began to gather nearer this city dweller, too.
Timmy politely extended his nose.
black son cat extended his razor-sharp claws,
with a bristled tail and fierce hissing jaws.
Timmy let out with a painful yelp,
as Mama cat called all boys in for help.
Cats surrounded and gave chase to the dog,
life-fearing circles around the cedar tree he’d log;
four hissing cats hot on his tail,
poor Timmy yelping in a desperate wail.
The master of Timmy gave rescue,
but Mama cat and her three grown sons,
strutting in pride, putting a dog on the run.
Written by: Carolyn Henderson
For Constance LaFrance's Cat Poem Contest
Won 9th Place
Copyright © Carolyn Henderson | Year Posted 2010
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Carolyn Henderson Poem
Time for all seasons is his plan,
roaming all of nature’s land.
Flowers bloom, their brightness fade,
Waters of life, we drink and wade.
Flowers spent, with grief we cry,
gazing upon the heavens high.
In seek of comfort, joy, and peace,
birds sing soothing, grief release.
Breath of breeze whispers love,
from the Holy one above.
Trees of shelter for mortal man,
until He holds us in his hand.
Love and peace for eternity!
For: Brian Strand's
Poem of Faith Contest
Won Honorable Mention
July 1, 2010
Copyright © Carolyn Henderson | Year Posted 2010
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Carolyn Henderson Poem
In bleak of darkness
Standing alone in the world
Hope is still alive
Copyright © Carolyn Henderson | Year Posted 2010
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Carolyn Henderson Poem
Stopped for lunch on our way home from Philly.
All visited restrooms and didn’t dilly.
After consuming our lunch,
in preparation for a long drive,
He, again, dashed to the restroom getting ready to ride.
Emerging from the toilet stall door,
there was his wife in the middle of the floor.
“Aren’t you in the wrong place”, he quizzed,
knowing, of course, she was wrong---again!
“No, I am not,” was her soft reply.
“But how about you, Honey Pie?”
His eyes bulged in disbelief,
no urinals on the walls, no, no, it can’t be!
In the ladies restroom, no, not he!
Suddenly feeling so deathly weak,
Face on fire, he could hardly speak,
“Is, is.. is... there anyone else in this place?”
“I don’t think so”, she replied,
laughing so hard she nearly cried,
“but I don’t know which is redder, your jacket or your face!”
Out the door he bolted in a shameful haste,
“Help me make it without being detected”,
fervently he prayed!!!
Exiting the ladies’ room door---
forget that handwashing chore,
already wet from drenching in cold sweat--
he ran straight into his son’s grimacing face,
who was about to enter the men’s place,
on the opposite side of the foyer.
Wouldn’t you know, the first thing he crooned,
“Dad, what are you doing coming out of the ladies’ restroom?”
His explanation was somewhat short
as this was just no time to cavort.
Out the restaurant door he flew
for fresh air, mopping his brow in a grateful wheeew!
Won Honorable Mention in
Paula Swanson's Contest
"New Contest--The Light Is On, But Nobody Is Home"
June 13, 2010
Copyright © Carolyn Henderson | Year Posted 2010
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Carolyn Henderson Poem
Just a hillside of junk was all that could be seen
in a yard once beautiful, well-kept and pristine.
With abandoned vehicles, overgrown shrubs,
household appliances, machinery and rugs,
creating all around the most horrendous of scenes.
An old homestead in such disrepair,
well hidden from view until standing there.
It’s long winding path buried with leaves,
must be between those colossal oak trees;
stirring gentle breeze to cool the warm air.
Just one look at those mighty old oaks,
an idea struck and our minds evoke.
This unkept place is ‘beauty in disgrace’.
Wouldn’t be hard to repair and replace!
Deal was struck, now we’re home folks.
Clearing and cleaning for three long years,
removed all debris, several tons, I fear,
mowed the lawn, trimmed the trees,
dug the weeds and planted some seeds.
Renovations planned by the end of the year.
Bulbs have been planted beyond the construction
allowing for progress without destruction.
Fruit trees for the orchard are now well established,
Japanese maples, all carefully transplanted,
Sun and shade gardens--ah, quite a production.
Trees, shrubbery, and flowers, varied selections,
await to be planted with the greatest perfection.
The hill no longer a ‘beauty in disgrace’,
lovingly reclaimed as our countryside estate,
well-kept, pristine, inviting transformation.
Written: May 27, 2010
Copyright © Carolyn Henderson | Year Posted 2010
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Carolyn Henderson Poem
Have you ever scanned the sky,
questioning, reflecting, wondering why,
at the dawning of the day,
what the colors seem to say?
As the sun peeps through the dark,
colors rival singing larks.
Shy and meek they seem at first,
growing softly to a burst.
Pastels of yellow, pink and white
delicately escort morn to light.
Blues, lavenders, softly entwined,
dawn in infancy begins its find.
Day will grow as we must do,
mature to colors - a deeper hue.
reds and oranges, mildly bold,
paint a story - ne’er fore told.
Yellows, blacks in mixture too,
hints and tints stirred in the brew.
Hues more vivid than the morn,
stronger, deeper, colorfully warm.
As the day fades back to night,
shadowy gray's the appetite.
Life’s a day of many blends,
colors ranging, thick and thin.
As the night begins its reign,
twinkling stars come out again.
No lovelier image can one pretend,
than viewing nature as it transcends.
@ March 12, 2010
Carolyn R. Henderson
Copyright © Carolyn Henderson | Year Posted 2010
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