Category Archives: children

SNOW

Our snowfall a couple nights ago reminded me of a poem I wrote from several years ago. The snow is so beautiful, but has the power to rearrange our lives! I hope you enjoy my memory!

Like a blanket of light,
It fills valley, large and small,
with icy cotton, and
dresses hills and mountains
in shimmering gowns of white,
making that which was crass, pure.
It lures children from the warmth
of home into the chilly playground
where snow angels flourish,
battles are fought with snowy cannonballs,
and snowmen wait for the sun
to warm their cold bodies.
With silent, frozen breath,
it blows aside our schedules,
rearranging our lives,
keeping us helpless
in the face of all we have to do,
demanding our surrender to its will.
2007

 

 

 

 

 

 

OF MOTHERS AND CHILDREN (pt. 3)

Children are a gift from the Lord.

2014-9 stone house lake naomi nathanael aidan liam judah gareth liam 2

MY CHILD
Mischief, wrapped in skin, and innocence,
fingers terrorizing dog and cat
hands tearing all apart, leaving
shreds of everything all through the house
feet that carry her to hiding places
far from searching mother’s eyes and ears
turning mother’s once-dark hair to gray.
Angel child, with auburn, bouncy curls
big brown eyes and smiles that light the dark
kisses bringing laughter through the clouds.
Mystery of life and love, asleep,
Cuddled in my arms, next to my heart.
(2005)

NEW BABY BROTHER
My sons, Aidan, four, and Gareth, age one,
Were soon to be joined by another.
One day I asked Aidan, “What do you think
Of having a new baby brother?”

He looked up at me with his bright cheery smile.
“That’s cool,” said my little blond son.
He paused for a moment, his eyebrows went up.
“Hey, Mom, can we keep the old one?”
(2004)

OF MOTHERS AND CHILDREN (pt 2)

Children are a gift from the Lord. 2014-9 stone house lake naomi nathanael aidan liam judah gareth liam

The poetry book continues.

JUDAH AND THE CHEERIOS
“Cheerios. They taste so good.
I’ll put them in my mouth.
And such a pretty box they’re in.”
So now, the box goes south.
And all the little Cheerios,
Which graced the rug they sat on
No longer round and whole,
They grace the rug they’re ground in.
(2005)

A DOLL FOR DARLA
Five dollars and 100 one-ounce Mr. Peanut bags
for a Mr. Peanut doll,
a cloth peanut with arms and legs
and just enough polyester
to make him little more than a pancake.
Black stove pipe hat perched on his head,
monacle over one eye,
the image of Mr. Peanut
just not as handsome—
a gift for eighteen month old Darla.
A toddler’s sparkling eyes, a quick hug,
and off to play with her new toy.

Proudly he rides Wonder Horse,
the golden plastic stallion,
pencil arms sticking out,
pencil legs straddling his mount,
head held high,
looking straight ahead with the face on his front
and behind with the face on his back
as Darla wheels them around the room

Bedtime, end of ride.
The most beautiful doll in the world
rests in the arms of his mama—
a deal for 100 one-ounce Mr. Peanut bags
and five dollars.
(2005)

OF MOTHERS AND CHILDREN

Children are a blessing from the Lord.
2014-9 stone house lake naomi nathanael aidan liam judah gareth liam 2
They are messy and noisy and expensive but I love having children around–especially my grandchildren. When a society has few children, it grows old. And selfish. God loves children and teaches us through them. And so, I put together a book of some of my poems about children and their moms. Some of the poems are older ones, but there will be more recent ones. I will post them in several postings. Hope they bless you!

BUTTERFLY WINGS
Under my heart, butterfly wings
whisper that love has brought life.
My fingers caress the nest where you grow,
tucked safely under my heart.

Under my heart, butterfly wings
whisper that I am now two.
My body is home to a being not me,
tucked safely under my heart.

Under my heart, butterfly wings
whisper my life is now full.
My arms ache to hold this dear butterfly
tucked safely under my heart.

Under my heart, butterfly wings
whisper of what life will be.
What will you bring to me, dear butterfly,
when you are not under my heart?
(2004)

SHH!
Shh! You’ll wake the baby.
Not many months ago
We didn’t have to hush.
He would waken to our voices
But, secure in his nest,
He would disturb only his mother,
Turning somersaults,
Dancing on her bladder.
Then he would go back to sleep,
Lulled by the sway of her tummy,
Or maybe he’d just suck his thumb.
(2000)