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Best Poems Written by Huberta Van Akkeren

Below are the all-time best Huberta Van Akkeren poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Bridge Over Troubled Water

If my memory serves me well
you were once a friend of mine
need I remind you, pray do tell
a friend who overstepped the line
friend became lover became husband so fine
 
I'm longing now to feel your arms
Sailing amid memories divine
Right when I thought, I was over your charms
behind my eyes, beneath my skin, you twine

Like an almost forgotten memory
a song, your words combine
bridge across time, consoling me
over and over, our dreams align
troubled tho our paths maybe
water flows through sands of time, for me

I feel your love
Will you always feel mine?
ease the parting, herein-above
your gift, our love, define
mind and soul are thine.

27 February 2014

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Grief and Loss

Loss, the parting
 Leaving grief’s dark depth
Acceptance is knowing 
Nothing will change
Love then drizzles light on
Memories that allow us to move forward

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The Reedybrook Ashes

Each year in August the teams descend, cricket foe morphing quickly to friend,
Bonds are forged on a pitch unique, camped on the banks of Reedybrook creek. 
The grass is cut, the fields set out, the umpires shout, ‘Fair play gents, otherwise, you’re out!’
Of drinks consumed, we will not speak, while camped on the banks of Reedybrook creek.

Dirt roads challenge each gearbox, as the Grogalots, Cowboys, and Crocs; 
Join the Misfits and Showuzya, named in cheek, arriving earlier each week,
The Mudrats, the Gumflats and West Endies; all regular ashes attendees
They come from Hughenden, Tully and Baffles Creek, to play the ashes at Reedybrook creek.

For Angel flight and the Royal Flying Doctor’s Service, keen bar volunteers serve us,
Increased proceeds are what they seek, to bolster donations from Reedybrook creek,
Without the service they provide, a caring hand, a smile, an emergency hospital ride,
Our life in the bush would indeed be bleak, as we sit on banks like Reedybrook creek.

Mist curls between trees where kangaroos twitch while hungover players struggle to the pitch, 
The games begin, heads ache, knees weak as the players play and spectators shriek
Last games’ duck now makes a run, wearing the wig is never fun,
Game rules are taken tongue in cheek, by most who play at Reedybrook creek.

 Cattle interrupt afternoon plays as they pause mid-field, to stare and graze. 
At dusk, campfires are lit, as we sit and speak, offering advice but never critique
Rehashing the day, discussing play, differences disappear while drinking beer; we stay,   
Like minded players of every physique, who enjoy playing cricket at Reedybrook creek.

Saturday night sees us return to the bar, coming by car expedient; who knows the cops might prove lenient. 
Dressed in jeans, boots, and hats, our finest ‘bush chic’; the band plays, toads’ race, we drink and take a leak,
In eco-friendly long drops or port-a-loos’ provided, inebriated all, the competition undecided
Until tomorrows games; no place for the meek are the ashes of Reedybrook creek

Half frozen when temperatures drop, most retire, some to amorous liaisons aspire,
These stealthy forms across starlit paddocks streak as back to their campsites they later sneak
Not all manage the potholed paddock, though broken bones are sporadic,
Some too drunk, others to weak, some slide down the banks into Reedybrook creek

Sunday afternoon sees the fun begin, child or piglet, guess who’ll win?
Of ‘keep your catch’, it is we speak; chaos reigns, kids squeal, pigs squeak. 
More fund-raising follows, as surely it should; The items for auction, some perfectly good
Are donated objects, often unique, sometimes antique, one time a painting of Reedybrook creek.

School holiday fun is better than getting expelled so now in September the ashes are held,
Once children, now players debating technique, learned on the banks of Reedybrook creek
The tradition passes from father to son, as each generation joins in the fun
Memories savoured, in fondness we speak, as we say farewell to Reedybrook creek

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My Uncle, My Hero

A husband, a father, an uncle, a son
A soldier, a brother, a man and a boy
Never one or the other, united, just one

His boyhood was lost too soon in the war
His manhood affected by all that he saw
His dotage came early, yet longevity reigned

He shed tears for his father, shed tears for his son
The tears of a man cried by a boy
Tears for the boy wept by the man

Haunted by a past he longed to forget,
Surrounded by the life that somehow seemed set
Yet speeding towards a future he was unwilling to greet

Hidden within the old man’s body, bravely the boy still lived
And for a fleeting moment a glint in his eye revealed, 
In the innocence of youth his carefree spirit prevailed

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Inspired By Another

She gazes forth, forlorn, her splendor inspired, her grieving vast 
It was three hundred years since the Bard of Avon did create
An ode to her beauty; a tale of love, of joy, of sadness and of fate
Juliet and her lost love Romeo, forever bound, forever found, forever to last
The image Dicksee created may reconcile lovers torn and passions classed
As futile, unrequited and inappropriate; yet love still lingers
Drawn as much by what can as what cannot be, for nothing alters
What a waste; Oh what we have not learned from mistakes past

So this maiden sweet stands alone, her hands resting on the balustrade
In her eyes an expectant look, longing for her lover to see
Waiting there eternally, patiently, yearning… Her promise made
Serene she waits, for what will never be
She lingers lost in memory, the poet’s pen paid
The artist’s brush stayed, alone to inspire me.

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A Little Girl's Dream

Each day I come to this special place, to catch a glimpse of fairies fair
Each day I come with a smile on my face, hoping that today they will be there
The tress are old, their branches bent
The deer less bold, now silence is spent
I spy the ring of red and white, toadstools where the fairies sat
Not a hint is left in this flimsy light, not an echo of their chat
I hold my breath, I sit and wait
Yet once again I am too late,

Far off now I hear how they sing, about the wind and the stars warm glow
How I long to dance in the fairy ring just once before it is time for me to go
Someday soon I know I’ll spy,
Fairy folk flitting past my eye
Long years have passed since those magical days, the forest still stands
I walk with my grand -daughter on those old twisted ways, we hold hands
As together we try as hard as we can
To catch just a glimpse of the fairy clan

We whisper as we walk along, afraid to miss the celestial song
We count the butterflies fluttering by, wondering all the while why
They always elude us just by a glance
They always induce us on the off chance
Fairy folk are always to be, intriguing imaginary friends for you and for me
Yet deep in my heart I’ll always know, they are just there behind that tree
And one special moment or so it would seem,
To spy them, just once is every little girls dream

14/03/2014

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International Day of Happiness

How very sad it seems to have to say
The United Nations needed to proclaim a special day
The 20 March henceforth to be known, I guess
As the International Day of Happiness

How very sad it seems to me
That mankind itself just cannot see
Happiness is a state of being, we can access
Each moment of every day in excess

The friendly smile on a stranger’s face
A flower, a song, a hug - some place
Where we can give instead of take
These things true happiness make

This is just a simple rhyme, I know
Give it some thought tho as you go
About the business you know best
Think of another and you will be blessed

For happiness does not need a special day
We can have it anyway, every day, all day , what do you say!

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Poetic Jargon

A one-legged lad from Maverick
Spent years rehearsing his rhetoric
This aesthetic athletic
Proved profoundly poetic
His lyrical soup wins plethoric

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A Reflection On Community Recovery

We were strangers when first we met,
One affected by disaster, the other there to help
And for a short while our paths were set.

We started the journey as a guide and one lost 
As you struggled to find the power within yourself,
To rebuild your life and evaluate the cost
 I saw your tears and felt your pain,
 And connected with compassion, to the sadness in your heart
Now I feel very privileged to witness you smile again.

As together we walked on the road to recovery
You shared your story, your fears and your loss 
And along the way we made an important discovery
We are all united in our love and our need
To feel connected to family, friends and community
Re-building together is powerful, indeed

You thank me as our ways part
Yet I come away feel truly blessed to have journeyed with you
For you are one of many who has enriched my heart.

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A Simple Truth

There once was a girl from a grotto
Who lived with a very short motto
Live and let live
Be happy to give
Life’s joy is not winning the lotto