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Hannah Rain Poem
#FAREWELL, BROTHER
by
Hannah Rain
Lowering him down upon his curved back,
On silky blue sheets, all pleated and tacked,
A pillow they stuffed beneath his cold head,
And combed his gray hair, that once was bright red.
Then buttoning his tweed, colored dark blue,
They crossed his thin arms and tied his black shoe.
His leg they stretched out, his eyes they sealed shut.
He’s thin as a pole, where once bulged his gut.
Completing his pose, they closed the lid tight,
Thus shutting him into perpetual night.
While sealing him in, they shook and they sighed;
Tears for their buddy could never run dry.
And grasping the rails, six men then lifted,
Heaving and hefting, as their feet shifted,
Tucking a shoulder 'neath a sharp edge,
The men now a square bore their friend’s bed.
Then slowly they marched, to breach in the earth,
And lowering him in, respected his worth.
Standing they pondered their suffering in war;
He’d been dismembered, and never restored.
The lemon trees close by, dropped sun colored tears,
Reminding the men how bitter the years
Would be without him, whose one legged jokes
Provoked them to laugh, but irked the grim folks.
Shoveling his bed o’er, with grayish brown dirt,
Despite clunks and thuds, not one of them shirked.
‘Cause each man did know, deep down in his heart,
Their brother did sleep, did briefly depart.
They knew they'd see him, once Christ opens the sky,
When graves open up, and they will arise;
For hearing God’s voice, His heavenly call,
They’ll bolt awake and meet Him one, all.#
Copyright © Hannah Rain | Year Posted 2017
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Hannah Rain Poem
#How could I forget#
How could I forget your widely smiling face,
Your warm enwrapping hugs, your frequent gifts of grace,
Before your brilliant mind, which used to dazzle bright,
Gave way to Alzheimer’s dark unrelenting blight.
How could I forget, the end was very soon,
Surprised, you said to me, “Oh, I remember you!”
The jumbled words you spoke, I couldn’t understand,
But never did I doubt that kind was your intent.
How could I forget you hosting mini-church
Inside your modest home, inviting all to perch.
To our great God, you’d sing, and quell all spirits bleak,
Answer sticky questions, with gentle, Christ-like peace.
How could I forget how you and wife stood by,
When gulping her first breath, my daughter started life.
Your good face she saw, her first few hours on earth,
Look how she’s all grown up and echoes Mama’s mirth.
How could I forget you blessed my second son,
Born fifteen months before, he had hair like setting-sun.
You touched him on his head, and prayed that God would bless,
Protect this lil’ guy, and limit his life’s mess.
How could I forget, when you and lovely wife,
Brought us Christmas dinner, blessed my first son’s life.
T’was sweetest time we had, while sharing baby news,
Your refreshing humor helped vanquish baby blues.
How could I forget the night my man proposed,
T’was in your living room, and you did not oppose.
The fireplace was lit, my man was on his knee,
While looking into my eyes, said, “Will you marry me?”
How could forget, when I was just a teen,
I called up you and wife, said needed place to flee.
“I’ll pick you up in ten,” you said, didn’t hesitate.
You shared with me your home; three months you let me stay.
How could I forget, when I was six years old,
Broke Christmas ornaments. You didn’t treat me cold.
So hard I tried to help - you move from house to house.
Yet, seeing broken glass, you didn’t brand me louse.
How could I forget, when first I did meet you,
Though I was just age five. T’was at a picnic do,
Held at Alondra park, And standing in sun’s glare,
Your wife held up a sign, said, “Picnic over there.”
No, I will not forget, I’ll see you ‘gain one day.
I’ll say a proper thanks, as God wipes tears away.
We’ll have that cheery chat; your words won’t go awry,
'Cause now you clearly speak, at home above the sky.
Dedicated to Roger H., who passed away Valentine's day, 2017
Copyright © Hannah Rain | Year Posted 2017
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Hannah Rain Poem
#
YOU NEVER KNOW
Did the Russian brewer know his vodka’d splash the face,
Of a thin, dying, sailor, about to leave this place?
Did the cargo captain know his ship would plunge and plow,
Through stormy, gray, swelling seas, so vodka’d mark a shroud?
Did eastern woodsman know the Witch-Hazel tree he fell
That juices in its bark and leaves would hold a gorgeous smell?
Did the plant distiller know that spirits from his plants,
A heady blend of essential oils, would twirl a final dance?
Did aromatherapist know, while making husband's aftershave,
A blend of vodka, Hazel, and essential oils, would be a gift of grace?
Did engineer husband know, while packing up his suitcase,
That flying 'cross the nation, he’d shave ill brother’s face?
Did weakened sailor know his wife would ask his kin
T'scrape a razor ‘cross his face and pucker up his skin?
Did the newfound brothers know the aftershave they shared
Would bond them oh so tight, beyond death's parting glare?
The answer to these questions is that one can never know.
For it is God, through works of man, who directs the blessed flow.
Hannah Rain
Copyright © Hannah Rain | Year Posted 2017
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Hannah Rain Poem
" NANCY
Nancy, oh, Nancy, lain on your side,
‘Atop the gray waters, in high and low tide.
Your ropes, your stays, the new and the frayed,
Are scattered beneath Bodega Bay.
Nancy, sweet, Nancy, your windows so dipped,
Like six drunken sailors who’ve dizzily tripped.
And hanging brown curtains can no longer hide,
The drowning of pencils and log books inside.
Nancy, oh Nancy, where have you been,
Through years of deep waters, in stillness and winds?
Did your hull strain, did it then heft,
When your old captain hoisted a net?
Nancy, sweet, Nancy, don’t say good-by,
There’s still one way to rise up and fly.
Some buoys and booms, and diggers besides,
Can loosen your hull, set it upright.
Nancy, yes, Nancy, Captain can scrape
Your hull and your deck, and your wood plates,
So you can once more, at dusk or in day,
Bring back fresh fish, to Bodega Bay.
by
Hannah Rain"
Copyright © Hannah Rain | Year Posted 2017
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Hannah Rain Poem
"VANILLA’S MAGIC
I first heard Vanilla’s voice when I was just a tyke.
“Come, come,” she said to me. “Smell, and you will like.”
Grasping, then, the dark brown glass, I twisted off the cap.
Down, down I dropped my nose, while memory split a gap.
Instantly, I clearly see the table, bowl, and oats.
“Eat, eat,” my father says. “Then run and get your coat.”
I dig my spoon into the meal and shove it in my mouth.
“Smell, smell,” Vanilla says, “Forget your mother’s shouts.”
“For deep, warm, and kinda sweet, I love to play with grains,
Of sugar, milk, and raisins too, which takes away the pain.”
I then hear black Dena’s bark, t’was yanked back to my room.
“Starve, starve,” my mother cries. “For you must live my gloom.”
Once again Vanilla spoke, when I was just age ten.
“Come, come,” she sang to me. “Want to soar again?”
Grasping then the dark brown glass, I twisted off the cap.
Down, down I dropped my nose, while memory split a gap.
Instantly, I clearly see the table, bowl, and oats.
“Eat eat,” my father says. “Then run and get your coat.”
I still hear Vanilla’s voice, though fifty years have passed.
For every day I smell her scent, so my nose she tags.
Always, then I clearly see the table, bowl and oats.
“Eat, eat,” my father says. “Then run and get your coat.”
by
Hannah Rain
Copyright © Hannah Rain | Year Posted 2017
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