Poetry
Many people have asked about my poetry. It’s hard to explain, but it’s a part of who I am. As a teen, I wrote poetry when things bothered me and I didn’t know how to put it into words. It was a way for me to communicate without saying something I’d be sorry for later. It’s not something I can just sit down and write. It comes from my heart and it holds some of my deepest feelings. Some of my topics are very specific and others are very general. Some of it rhymes and some of it doesn’t. It depends on how I feel at the time. Sometimes rhymes come to me in the middle of the night. I have learned to write them down when they come, otherwise, I will lose the train of thought. Sometimes I am inspired by an event; a birth, death, marriage, holiday. Other times I can be inspired by a photograph. Each poem I write tells some kind of story. You the reader get to find it.
Good-Bye
I never got
to say good-bye
No time to grieve
No time to cry
You were sick
then just gone.
I never got
to read your play,
I cannot visit
you in May.
You were sick
then just gone.
I never got
to celebrate your life
with friends and family.
No prayers
No tears
No memory.
You were sick
then just gone.
I never got
to say good-bye,
but at night
sometimes I cry.
Rest in peace dear Alan, rest in peace.
Grampa
I remember Grampa
He used to sing to me.
He told the greatest stories
As he held me on his knee.
I remember Grampa
He was a quiet man.
He played the concertina
And harmonica
A regular one man band.
I remember Grampa
He laid the brick
And to helped build our house.
For a Grampa he was really quick.
I remember Grampa
The one fingered typing he would do
To make sure I had a letter
So I wouldn’t feel blue.
I remember Grampa
He was so much more than this.
He’s been gone for thirty years
Even now today, he’s really missed. |
