Misc | rnhope

All bad poetry springs from genuine feeling. ~ Oscar Wilde

A BEAUTIFUL FLOWER

Daughter of my daughter
Bursting with love
Radiating unbridled joy
An unrestrained laughter
Eyes of diamonds
An endless smile
She lightens my heart
Raising my hopes
Making each day
Brighter
Happier
Sunnier
Lovelier
Better
And so very much

Rosier

“I QUIT”

The end of hope

A conscious decision to fail

Choosing the closure of an opportunity

Prematurely halting the journey

And destroying whatever that hope made known

It is the shunning of achievement, of accomplishment

A death of intention and purpose

And a blackening of resolve

It signals the end of an opportunity

And the shedding of ambition and attainment

As shadow overtakes ambition

The light of purpose is extinguished

I AM MY OWN MOTHER’S SON -

(written as a part of a family project for children and grandchildren to write poems for Mom's 80th birthday)

When in times of uncertainty

As to my true parentage

I like to review

All of the ways that I know

I am my own mother’s son

There are times in the kitchen

I just break into song

To hell with the lyrics, the tune or the key

I just sing it out strong

And right then I am reminded

I am my own mother’s son

And I remember one time

The right word wouldn’t come

Then I made one up

So I wouldn’t sound dumb

And again I knew

I am my own mother’s son

When I started to throw,

To pitch and hit balls

I was grateful, for sure

She played baseball not dolls

Right then, I was pleased

I am my own mother’s son

And when it comes to grandchildren

At home I keep candy

And with love overflowing

Hugs are always handy

It’s as clear as a bell

I am my own mother’s son

Whenever we have family dinners

I make everything just so

Then I force food on everyone

When they get ready to go

There is no sense in denying

I am my own mother’s son

Sometime I’m with babies

And play peek-a-boo

I scrunch up my face

And say “I’m gonna get you”

It just couldn’t be clearer

I am my own mother’s son

Whenever I overcook pork chops

Or make chicken to fry

When I whip up some gravy

When I cook up a pie

My heritage is so clear

I am my own mother’s son

Sometimes I say something silly or goofy

And I see my kids wriggle

But I just have fun

And make everyone giggle

I just couldn’t be surer

I am my own mother’s son

Watching family in sports and events

I remember mom cheering loudest

Now I do the same thing

Just like her, I’m the proudest

I see her all over

I am my own mother’s son

I was Lori’s concert

When I caught myself singing softly

I check all around me

And then I feel awfully

If it was, without doubt

I am my own mother’s son

I try very hard to make home

Cheerful, happy and glad

If it’s not fun and exciting

I feel really bad

Clearly it’s true

I am my own mother’s son

Oh, there are exceptions of course

Like watching the M’s or the Hawks

I’m quiet and thoughtful

Not screaming out loud

In spite of this difference

I am my own mother’s son

And in the end

I’m very happy

That I am indeed

My own mother’s son

I AM KING

Perfumes of new mown grass

Far removed from winter snows

Skies unclouded as flawless glass

Viewed from leisure’s repose

I begin to drift, then doze

Yet summer sounds I hear

Profound though nothing’s said

All that life has is clear

Where my empty soul is fed

And nature serves as this day’s bread

Beneath the heat of a summer sun

Relief is carried on each beam

Every bothersome task now done

Washed away in a lazy stream

As I rest in a sun-soaked dream

Dreaming free of regret and grief

I dance amidst the trees

Smiling with each clapping leaf

As they flutter in the breeze

Whilst I sway in the arms of ease

Birds alight from their nests

They sally forth in carefree wheeling

Warm air fills their chests

Throughout their rapid reeling

Unbridled dancers without ceiling

Sprouting wings, I fly

Awhirl above the ground

I rise into the sky

Where wind is the only sound

And new courage there is found

Returning fresh to earth

Relieved of all distress

How delightful is rebirth

Now cradled in my nest

Retiring there in quiet rest

Forgotten beneath open skies

Wearisome thoughts lay mute

As verdant greens fill my eyes

And blessed peace takes root

There remains not one dispute

What rivals fresh-plucked fruit

Stolen from a tree or vine

What soothes like distant flute

Or lifts like bubbly wine

While in grass I sink supine

Absent of unwelcome worry

For a moment my mind is stilled

Distractions expunged in a flurry

See all unrest stilled

As placid dreams come filled

Witness the rise of emerald hills

Wafting scents of lavender flower

Leisurely flow of wandering rills

Fed by a pre-dawn shower

God grant me one more hour

On creation’s brightest day

My heart takes wing

Soaring over a sparkling bay

Humming as the blue birds sing

On this day, even I am king

THAT DAMN MOUNTAIN

The mountain rises before her

Reaching higher than I dare to dream

Whispering so softly only she can hear

“Can you beat me?

I don’t think you can.”

It judges too quickly

Looks are deceiving

Femininity and beauty mask her power

Smile and grace disguise tenacity

She answers the mountain’s taunts

Step after step, again and again

Working for each breath

She climbs beyond pain

Beyond throbbing

The summit flirts with her

A thousand times it whispers its lie

“Look at me. I’m so close.”

Inching closer with each grueling step

Focused on each step, each breath

Again and again and again

Until at last, with effort beyond imagination

Beyond anything she’s ever tried

She stands atop the mountain

And hears a snicker

“Well done; you; let's see you get down.”

NORTHWET WETHER

Sun so timid and unconvincing

The world deadened

By an inescapable grief

Month upon month of gloom

As days drift obscured

From dawn to dusk

Never deciding if or when to waken

Skies made colorless by feeble light

Relentless damp

Moisture of every sort

In every form imagined

From gentle mists

To pelting sheets of rain

From inexplicable hail

To the silent flight of snow

Ever-present wet

With gutters spilling over

Into chill puddles

A challenge to the best of shoes

Dew so heavy you can drink it

From grass lying flat atop mushy sod

Dew suspended in air

As a foggy silent curtain

Windows glazed with a fractious skin

Holding hard to cars’ windshields

As unwelcome coats of crystal

Crunch under cautionary steps

As if injected under my skin

Chilling spine

Tightening knees and hips

Sapping strength and resolve

Smudging fun and adventure

One drop at a time

SPRING 2020

April triggers the sun’s premiere

Warming both heart and bone

Wiping the somber sky clear

Ushering in the Spring’s cologne

Shining bright upon each leaf,

Flowers burst with colors’ glee

Granting all a sweet relief

With happiest imaginings free

Breezes whirling air so clean

Cherry blossoms fall like snow

Lawns awaken lush and green

And then, our young hearts grow

SEVENTY

At an age I never imagined

Never pictured myself so old

It happened so quietly, so slowly

I failed to notice it wash over me

The incremental steps leading me

To walk into this wasting existence

Beyond all visible suffering

The slowness of all motion

Hesitant, labored steps

All deliberate and measured

Arresting the freedom of natural movement

Of spontaneous response

The entirity of my being

Tainted, overwhelmed by age

A ceaseless assault

Occupying and infesting

First my body

And then my soul

GRANDCHILD

Holding a grandchild close

An inextinguishable gladness

The absolute peak of affection

Old, old eyes and heart awaken

To an overwhelming joy

Only a grandfather can know

To describe that feeling is pointless

The effect is as mighty as

A jet in flight

And as easy as

The quiverings of a butterfly’s wings

GRANDSON

Being a male does not make a man

It requires making a choice, a decision to be a man

A choice that requires intention and conviction

Owning a belief of what is good, right, and moral

Standing up for what you believe

Treating everyone fairly, regardless of those that might do otherwise

It means being open and honest, responsible for all your actions

Speaking out when others are ill-treated

Refusing to participate in actions detrimental to others

Admitting and apologizing for your errors when mistakes are made

Respecting your environment, your fellow humans, and yourself

Integrity is not a characteristic; it is a way of life

It is what you do, and what you say, always

It sets you apart from others, it defines you as a person

Be upstanding, be forthright, be conscious of your actions

Remember to always act with integrity, with honor

Noise

How sweet the noise a child makes
Gentle breaths of baby’s sleep

Close he lays on my chest

Then a gurgle, a deep breath

And a gentle rousing

When, moved by need, he wakes,
And never far, the parent waits.