| Grandpa's Chair
Posted: 4/10/2006 9:10:27 PM | Granpas Chair
Sitting alone on the screened porch
A piece of curved wood and peeling paint
Like a ghostly sentinal is Granpas chair
I remember the creaks and cracks of the wood
The chair would lend to the stories being told
Tales of bar room brawls and of antiquties
Entertaining themselves before they had electricity
Stories endless of great uncles and great aunts
Stories of courtships and waltzs
When people held each other close when they danced
In that chair sprouted my family tree
Which was rooted in rich heirs and family
This chair stands silent now
It holds one day to the next
But I will never look at his chair and see
Anything but my granpa
Living through his stories
It will never be empty | |
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| The Passing Days - Dedicated to my Grampy
Posted: 4/10/2006 11:15:57 PM | You crept into my mind
ancient
you seemed
back then
you were so kind
I think I was 9
when you died
old and blind
way back when
you were one of a kind
you taught me to breathe
playing
at carom
damn
death and it's changing ways
you were my great grandpa
you were my inspiration
at an age
when inspiration
was only
a haze
of curious thought
and endless days
of
summer
where are you now
ancient wisdom
you lived
it seemed
hundreds of years
I haven't thought of you in awhile
but damn
I miss you
and your
ancient
smile | |
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| The Passing Days - Dedicated to my Grampy
Posted: 4/11/2006 12:03:42 PM | even though the rules are posted it doesnt matter really what is posted, if you would like two in one catagory then by all means....
Okay everyone you have a few more hours to post then the thread will be closed down..
thanks for all who entered well done..
Miz | |
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| Hidden wings
Posted: 4/12/2006 4:36:39 AM | Hidden Wings
An angel to the heart
those hidden wings
Her soul as pure as sunlight
solemn to her touch in sweetness
Those skies of grey
with her always blue
Was she heaven
maybe only to mourning light
The moon her sanctuary
as to each new dawn
Upon an axis of serenity
no one could say she was not requite
An angel, her wings a reality
her soul of sunlight
Her touch the moon's rays
tomorrow again to love once more | |
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| The passing days
Posted: 4/12/2006 4:43:24 AM | Mother of Mankind
At night it was mourning
a sadness lost upon time
As to the passing days
where summer was no more
To run that race of birth
and live, oh to live each moment
This life of giving her soul in kind
every year another to add in age
Who would say
they would never be
A mother of mankind
her birth peopled to the world
Teardrops upon a graven stone
ashes unto ashes in hope forever
Never again, but always was
this love she gave to eternity | |
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| The passing days
Posted: 4/12/2006 4:48:37 AM | Okay thats it folks, this thread is now closed, please go to the voting thread to post your votes for your favs...
Thanks for all who entered, well done
And congrats to all, you are all winners in my book
Please vote for two of your favorites thanks..
Miz
******thread closed please go to voting thread************ | |
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| The passing days
Posted: 4/12/2006 1:05:32 PM | | Just bumping this back up with the voting thread!!!!! | |
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| The passing days
Posted: 4/12/2006 4:47:41 PM | | bumping it back up last night to vote | |
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| The passing days
Posted: 4/12/2006 5:37:48 PM | site rules say - if a post has the bu*p word in it a person could get banned - and I do care,
that is why I am making this known, as all will be well, and I want you all to stay | |
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| Vote in the voting thread
Posted: 4/13/2006 4:54:07 AM | | moving this closer to the voting thread so all can read the wonderful writes please go there to vote...thanks | |
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| Vote in the voting thread
Posted: 4/14/2006 3:38:03 PM | When I began to compose this works, my heart in thoughts was in Oshawa, Canada,
of a wonderful woman and a beautiful friendship, and days and hours of correspondence.
As if she means everything to me, in ways of kindness and caring. Yet in reading this works
of mine later, I saw my own mother within my words.
Of both these women, they are special and precious to me, although not all may be understood.
One I adore in kindness and her ways of giving, where I try to give back in the way
of my own words. A friendship, although distant and in ways, physically blind to one other,
this has an opportunity to keep on growing and bloom like a fresh rose opening from bud.
The other, a woman of honour and respect, may my mother always be with me in memory,
and may friendship be the fruit of kindness to endure. "Hidden Wings" being such a fitting title,
if she only knew how to fold those wings and embrace her true beauty, of Angelina.
Maybe she already does, because I know she is Angelina in her heart
5288
Hidden Wings
12 April 2006
An angel to the heart
those hidden wings
Her soul as pure as sunlight
solemn to her touch in sweetness
Those skies of grey
with her always blue
Was she heaven
maybe only to mourning light
The moon her sanctuary
as to each new dawn
Upon an axis of serenity
no one could say she was not requite
An angel, her wings a reality
her soul of sunlight
Her touch the moon's rays
tomorrow again to love once more
“Therefore, when they are out of the world they neither marry nor are given
in marriage; but are appointed angels in heaven, which angels are
ministering servants, to minister for those who are worthy of a far more,
and an exceeding, and an eternal weight of glory. For these angels did not
abide my law; therefore, they cannot be enlarged, but remain separately and
singly, without exaltation, in their saved condition, to all eternity; and
from henceforth are not gods, but are angels of God forever and ever.”
Doctrine and Covenants 132: 16-17 LDS
© 2006 Christopher W Herbert (a New Zealand Poet)
a poet who cares
my second poem relates to my mother, who would have been 80 years old in May, had she not died on March 02, 2006
thank you all, who entered this contest , because without your poems and contribution, there would be much missing from this world, the world can not do without
Congratulations to everyone  | |
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