, , , , , , , , , , ,

Nearby I wait with empty arms outstretched.
Oh, no! Another basks now in her charms!
This should have been our turn, My Empty Arms!
She should have come to me – how I’m bereft!
How much I hoped that she with me were left!
And now another comes to hold my love:
Right on his heels, a new admirer comes.
Importantly, they each demand to heft
New Baby from the parents who need rest:
Good friends, who love a baby they can hold.
But lately, this routine is getting old:
A GRANDMA waits – in case you all forget –
Because I have this urgent, HUGE concern:
You know – ahem!—it ought to be my turn!!

by Gwennon
June 30, 2013

for my husband, Sergei and daughter, Lacey.

Yesterday morning on the way to church, I was telling my husband that now that we would see our daughter and her husband at church, it would be his big chance to hold and snuggle our new grand-daughter, “Harmony”, which would give her mommy Lizzie a break. Seemed like a good idea at the moment.

But there was a huge, hefty sigh emanating immediately from the back seat. When we asked Lacey what the problem was, she huffed, “Dad gets to hold the baby ALL THE TIME, and I never get a turn!”

This is, unfortunately, true.

I also don’t get enough holding time with the baby. That’s because Lizzie’s inlaws are in town, and they are also trying to get their fill of BABY TIME.

As it happens, yesterday, Sergei held Harmony just long enough to really enjoy her, before needing to take her out for a diaper change, where, presumably, she was handed back to her parents for this “delicate operation” – and Lacey and I didn’t see the baby again for the rest of the church service. Sigh!

On the poetry building side of things, I often like to think of acrostic sonnets as huge jigsaw puzzles that come with limited instructions, accompanied by dictionaries and thesauruses, loaded with thousands of legitimate possibilities that the writer has to dig diligently for, like an archaeologist digs close to a possible new historical site. He may be close, or far. There’s no telling until the digging begins, and sometimes all that can be determined is that the treasure is not here where he expected to find it, but if he keeps on digging, it just might be waiting hidden nearby.

That this acrostic wrote itself was so quickly was a huge surprise to me. I had covered it in prayer; so, I shouldn’t have been terribly surprised. Yet, pondering the notebook I have languishing away in storage packed with partially started but not finished acrostic sonnets I have been wrangling with for the last five years, it was a very good surprise that all the missing pieces of my word puzzle presented themselves to me in such a timely manner. It was truly the gift of God, Who generously gives good gifts constantly.

God is good!  All the time!

Praying for God to show you His goodness in your life today,


P.S. Those of you kindly readers who want to write your own acrostic sonnets, it is not as hard as you might think.  Start first with a good strong title, then add your acrostic line down the left margin.  (Some acrostics cover the right margins, but I have never yet attempted those.)  Something that has helped me a lot here is the notion that these poems don’t have to be written “in order”.  That is to say, sometimes one of the middle lines or the end lines will present itself first.  Go ahead and capture it when it arrives before it has a chance to get away!  Yesterday, the bottom line wrote itself first, followed by line 13, then the first line.  Occasionally in writing acrostics, a very strong middle line will show up first.  You can then work your way backwards and start constructing your rhyme scheme from there.  Whatever you do, try to have fun with this.  When it becomes just an exercise in painful perseverance, it’s probably time to lay the manuscript aside for a time.  Just so long as you don’t leave it where the dog can eat it!