In A Name

Tags

humor, life, narrative poem, sonnet, writing

If my “rose” is just a daisy,

Then have I been simply lazy?

Though I’ve worked on this like crazy,

Are results a tad bit hazy?

 

I’ve not studied well this art form,

And I’m feeling others’ sharp scorn,

As the label’s from my works torn,

I am feeling rather forlorn.

 

There is precious few agreement

On the writings that can cement

Praise sincere in its vehement.

Yep. There’s rampant disagreement!

 

Though I’ve labored much upon it,

Have I never wrote a sonnet?

 

Gwennon

September 5, 2019

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Cat Burglar

Tags

doggie-loves, narrative poem

You’re stealing my poor puppy’s peace,

Which NO ONE ought to do.

So, Kitty, I will take this chance

To say, “Shame, SHAME, on you!”

You taunt my precious hound-girl

‘Til she’s WILD to give you chase.

You never stop to think that thus

Your value you debase.

Your presence here AIN’T needed

Unless you are killing mice.

So scoot on down the road, my friend:

Don’t MAKE me tell you twice!

 

by Gwennon, July 21, 2019

for my poor, beleaguered “Baby Beatrice”

My Two Wonderful Fathers

It’s hard to find modern poems that I can love and enjoy. But they occasionally do find me. I hope you will enjoy this one as much as I have. And if you do, please thank the author. She did a great job.

Seeking Divine Perspective

“If you, then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give good things to those who ask him?” Matthew 7:11

June was my dad’s month – Father’s Day, his birthday – he even married a lady named June. (Their anniversary is in June.) So I’m dedicating one more post to him today.

Just before flying to St. Louis to join my father for his big 65th birthday celebration, I composed this poem during my morning run. I am now one year older than he was then – Where does the time go???

Happy Father’s Day, everyone.

                           To Dad

You told me that God was my Father;                                         …

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Without the Conductor

Tags

childhood

The band was not in session;

Indeed, could not be,

Though the eager young musicians

Glanced pointedly,

And repeatedly,

At the sacred space

Where their beloved instruments

Were meticulously kept,

Quietly reposing momentarily,

Safe from both the elements

And overuse:

The carefully locked doors

Surrounding those well-guarded treasures,

Known by most of the commoners

As pots and pans.

 

by Gwennon

July 1, 2019

Beautiful

Tags

beauty, joy, peace

It’s a beautiful day,

And my bed is made,

And my dishes done,

And the dogs behave

As we stand together,

Shaded from the sun,

Enjoying the breeze in our hair,

While none in our exclusive little group of three

Barks at cats,

Or pulls incessantly at the leash,

Or shouts unprintable epithets

At any of the neighbors

Who are also braving the heat.

 

It’s a beautiful day,

Made even more beautiful

By the songbirds

Pouring out their little wild hearts

In a chorus that has to be

About a million billion times

More joyful–

Not to mention, WELCOME–

Than the loud, raucous disharmonies

Ladled out generously

Earlier this week

By enlightened

Drive-by

Music educators.

And we peacefully soak ourselves

In summer birdsong

As the laughter of children,

Splashing into their cold,

Pop-up swimming pool next door,

Washes over our hearts

With its healing balm

Of innocent gladness.

 

It’s a beautiful day,

And I remember

How thankful I was

To move into this house

In this neighborhood

That God provided

At just the right time

For a price that was

Even better than we expected,

And He protected us–

And protects us still-

From a series of very awful things,

As we begin to relax,

Adjust to our new normal

And decompress

And heal

In this lovely oasis

Only He could have provided.

 

It’s a beautiful day to be alive,

And I am glad.

 

by Gwennon

June 15, 2019

Done

Tags

Christian walk, pain, trusting God

A thousand little duties done.

Such duties that we had to do,

Which seemed we never would get through,

But now we see them fully done.

And all the time we thought was long

Is gone–IS GONE–and won’t return,

And many lessons have been learned

In that short time we thought was long.

And now that these sweet days have gone,

I’m having trouble moving on.

So slowly I am moving on,

Shocked, now that these sweet days are gone.

I’m trusting God but feel great pain

And wish I could these days retain.

While endless tears my face now stain,

I’m trusting God with this deep pain.

by Gwennon

December 1, 2018

Scathed, but Persevering

Tags

Christian walk, God, pain, spiritual battle

Fatigue has turned me into limp spaghetti,

Ready to call it quits and leave the drama

Here to the stronger warriors on my team.

Battles leave me feeling weak and deadly small.

Tomorrow’s winning chants and glad confetti

Fade into blurred, distant hope. The sweet parades

Afforded returning heroes–the trauma

Of miserable, active battle falling

Away–these must be delayed now to allow

Total commitment of each precious resource.

I grieve, as I continue, for the fallen

Soldiers no longer able to fight. Wilder

Future battles beckon, to which I must go,

Unflinching, trusting God throughout the saga

Of an imperfect life, while Heaven afar

Calls, and prayers rise, and in God my help I seek.

by Gwennon

February 10, 2019

My Piano

Tags

acrostic poem, loss, loss of a loved one, music, pain

It no longer fits into my new life.
So, to make room for more, it must leave me:
Beloved bringer of joy, moving on,
Exporting joy into territories
It hadn’t seen before. Adventure calls.
New friends fidget, waiting with open arms,
Glad to take it right on into their hearts,
And this should make me happy. It ought to
Make me happy to know it has a life
Prepared just over the next horizon.
Untold joys—and maybe a few sorrows—
Target my old faithful, stiff, wooden friend.
Alas! I cannot help but mourn its loss
Today. Tomorrow, maybe, I can feel
Elation for its good fortune to be
Desired in a day when electronics rule.

by Gwennon
November 27, 2018

After this post, I may not have reliable internet access for an unspecified period of time.

My husband and I are moving on to greener pastures, but also sending our youngest two away for college. We are in a period of transition that is both bursting with hope and joy, and, paradoxically, filled with more overflowing, unexpected sorrows than I would have imagined. So many prayers are being answered all at once, while good changes that we have all anticipated for a couple of years, are harder to swallow than we initially realized. I wouldn’t change anything, but I am definitely experiencing some deep mourning. I won’t rush through it. And I will praise God through my tears, though, truly, both my dogs and I (and maybe even on occasion, my outwardly-stoic husband) will probably be crying into our blueberries for endless minutes at a time in the foreseeable future.

I thank you for your forbearance and any prayers you want to raise on our behalf. May God bless you with a joyful Advent and Christmas season!

Best Regards,

Gwennon

Winter, Again

Tags

God, pain, pruning, trusting God

It’s my time to relinquish,
And relinquish, Lord, I will:
I’ll trust Your kindly pruning hands,
And bend me to Your will.
And though my leaves are falling fast,
I’ll trust You through my pain,
And know that when the time is right,
You’ll make me grow again.

by Gwennon
November 8, 2018

Scariest of the Scary

Tags

acrostic sonnet, fear

I simply could not help starting to screech
Now that it invaded my space like that.
My shoes and flyswatter were not in reach,
Yet, I needed something to smash it flat, FLAT!
By a thin thread, from the ceiling it bounced:
A nightmare of fangs and pointing fingers.
Threats to my good health it announced:
Hellish apparition of bites and stingers,
Ready to stab me in the eye, I suppose.
Oh, it was nothing I wanted to see
Or have hovering close to my nose!
My home should be forever spider-free!

by Gwennon
February 28, 2018

After escaping a very scary attack right over my bathtub, once the drama was over, and I was ready to face the world, I carried the notes for this poem to church with me, I’m afraid, and I finished the poem during the sermon. Sigh.

Three of the lines have 11 syllables instead of the standard 10. I tell myself it’s because my heartbeat was irregular and erratic during this scary spider incident.