Some poetry I wrote

[Guest tomk]

I wrote most of this in my late teens and early twenties. Some others have shared some poems lately, and they have given me the courage to share some of what I have written. I hope you enjoy it.

Vision

A warm and happy summer's day,

A little laughing girl at play,

Wet cool grass

Between bare toes,

Soft flower tickling

A curious nose.

========================

Tower of Babel

Men working, muscles straining,

Sweat wiped away

From foreheads caked with dust.

Forming a huge tower,

Boldly declaring to God that they

Will force entrance into His glory,

And exalt themselves to the heavens.

Their tower failed, of course.

But each of us may

Build our own "Tower"

To reach our heavenly goal.

Not with hewn stones

Rising in carnal majesty,

But with fervent prayer

Born of spiritual necessity.

Not a tower

That boldly declares,

But a broken heart

That humbly petitions.

Not an edifice

That exalts itself to the heavens,

But a contrite spirit

That hopes to be exalted.

Not a forced entry,

But a gentle knock.

The tower built by men

Took years,

And offered nothing.

The tower built through

Precious moments

Of honest prayer

Offers us the true

And only way to God.

========================

Timpanogo's Blanket

I was walking to my home one day

And noticed that she'd changed

A blanket of white upon the gray

The heavens had arranged.

I really couldn't blame her

The weather was quite cold

But wondered if her mother

Knew her blanket was snow...

========================

Outstretched Hands

I see you quietly sitting there

With dirty hands and uncombed hair.

With outstretched hands you beckon me,

Then softly whisper, "Please feed me."

What have I to give to you

To fill the void

to comfort you?

Will food alone suffice today,

To send you happily on your way?

No, not today.

Your trembling hands

So cold and stiff,

My proferred soup

You gratefully sip.

The hunger leaves, but still remains

In lonely eyes

That betray your pain...

My friend

There are other hands that beckon, too.

Reaching to those

Who hunger like you, saying,

"Come follow me

And be spiritually fed.

If you'll only just listen

There's much happiness ahead."

Yes, I am those caring, outstretched hands

Of a Savior who truly loves and understands.

Open your spiritual eyes and see

The person He wants you to be.

Lift up your head, you're not alone.

And the journey's much easier with a light of your own.

Lean on Him, He'll not let you down.

The blessing for enduring is

Eternal Life's Crown.

========================

Nineteen

Nineteen again

That's right--

this isn't the first time

Oh, I've been nineteen

so many times during

my life,

with all of its privilege

and position.

Why didn't I see the pain?

The candles on my cake

burn a little softer,

and the icing isn't quite as sweet

as I realize that

this time

it's for real

and privilege and position

are not really

what I feel.

A tear escapes on eye

as does a little laugh.

"Nineteen again,"

I say to myself.

Why didn't I see the pain?

========================

Our Heritage

Sea-weary pioneers

Upon a dreary ocean

Guided by the hand of God

Blessed for their devotion.

As they first set foot upon

This fertile land of promise

Other men begin the work of death

Held by powers of darkness.

One man leads the believing few

Fleeing from dissenting brothers

Another leads the wicked many

Daughters shedding blood of mothers.

Many years pass and many die

One nation stands healing its wounds

One man stands, the last of his people

To live with the Mulekites nine moons.

Inheritors of this land have

A promise from the Lord

If we obey, we'll prosper

Salvation our reward.

========================

Reverie's Watch

We were two ships

passing in the night,

But the wake of your passing

still laps upon the hull

of my ship's reverie,

Leading me even now

to distant shores,

Calling out your name,

hoping that I might once again

gaze into those beautiful brown eyes.

Many nights do I

scan a lonely horizon,

Knowing that another restless night

will not bring the sunrise of

your smiling face,

But the searching rays

of a melancholy sun,

which, even in its eternal warmth,

fails to console the

whimpering of my soul or

the aching of my broken heart.

Where have you gone?

The remembrance of the

whisper of the wind in your sails

still racks my spirit with pain,

Because I know that

my eyes will never again see

the delicious upturn of your lips,

as you steer your vessel

through the currents

of the sea of life.

What lonely harbor

have you now called your home

along the desolate shore of my past?

Will you ever lay anchor

in the tranquil depths of love?

I promise that I'll keep eternal watch

for my graceful captain.

========================

Our Savior

Such love our Savior

had for us

while in Gethsemane.

To suffer that we

might live with Him

throughout eternity.

A loving Father heard

His Son: "Not my will

but Thine be done."

And straightway was

our Savior led, His

innocent blood so

freely shed.

Upon the cross at

Calvary, was heard

our dear Lord's

plea: "Why my Father,

in my final hour,

has Thou forsaken

me?"

Now taken down

to quietly lie

within a sepulcher.

His suffering past

to rise at last!

His glory is assured.

While of the

emblems we

partake, each sacred

Sabbath day,

May we remember

our Savior dear...

...and emulate His ways.

========================

Goodbye

Our first anniversary

I will never forget;

You, with your hand clasped

weakly in mine, telling me

over and over again,

in a voice

as soft and tender

as a child's,

that the years

which won't be spent together,

I should never spend

in regret.

And then,

that long, unwavering line

was all that I could see

as I numbly felt the warmth

fleeing from your

gentle fingertips,

and that final

perfect breath

pass between your lips...

And as I knelt in anguish and cried,

feeling so hopelessly alone...

your beautiful spirit

toward heaven

had flown.

Yes, on our first anniversary

I said goodbye to you,

and now there is a little one to raise

with loving care and lullaby songs

where a mother's soothing touch belongs.

His mother's memory through me he'll know

as he begins to learn

and grow,

As I begin to slowly heal

but never feel

completely whole.

========================

Brazil

Water

drip-drops,

pitter-patters,

spitter-spatters,

as it soaks

the lazy brown earth

and lazy people,

emerging from shipping crate mansions.

The sun shines on poverty,

burning away

the early morning rain

and the twilight that once held

this decaying slum

in tranquil sleep.

Walking past open doorways,

I see the silhouettes of curious children

in the claws of hunger,

and mire of spiritual starvation.

I feel their eyes on my back

the delinquents of tomorrow...

The local bar

already full of broken hearts

and broken wills

I watch the yellowish liquid

brought thirstilly to parched lips.

========================

Cold Feet

I roll over sleepily in bed

the day after you're gone,

Habitually searching for the

warmth of your shoulder,

And perhaps,

after a lingering kiss,

the promise of eggs over easy

as the sun breaks forth.

What my trusting fingertips encounter, instead,

are the cold feet

of our little boy,

who appeared some time last night

as a small silhouette in our doorway,

Awakened by the growling and cursing

of a summer storm.

I remember his gleeful giggle as I

motioned to the place of safety

beside me in bed,

Running playfully, still full of

mysterious childhood energy,

Then hurriedly diving for the covers

as a rumble shattered the night.

How could I have guessed that

the time spent with this bundle of energy

Would be a little bit of heaven on earth?

I see myself lifting the cup awkwardly in small hands.

Or futilely swinging at an elusive curve

thrown by dad, the master of treacherous,

hard-for-little-boys-to-reach pitches.

I see myself in our little boy

and live again those years long past.

Although your loving arms

will soon encircle him again,

I'm grateful for this time I've had

with our little boy...

and his cold feet.

[skalenfehl]

Beautiful poetry. So much imagery. I like the first one. Perhaps your daughter experiencing a new Spring day. I like the Tower of Babel and how you turned that story into a learning experience. Timpanogo's Blanket...I just finished a few jobs out at Cedar Hills above Highland. When it snows out there, there's much more than a blanket, especially with the winds! I like the use of personification. Some of your poetry is profound and some is personal and I suppose if I knew you better I'd understand. I really liked Our Savior and especially the last stanza. I can see why you were able to relate to my poem. You painted quite a picture in my mind about your missionary experience in Brazil. You have a lot of talent. Thank you for sharing!

[Guest tomk]

Thank you, skalenfehl. Your comments meant a lot to me.

[UintahJack]

Tom,

Good stuff. You are very talented at painting pictures with your words. Keep on sharing your poems.

[Guest tomk]

Tom,

Good stuff. You are very talented at painting pictures with your words. Keep on sharing your poems.

Thank you!

[ruthiechan]

Are you ever intending to get this professionally published? If so, most publishers will consider these already published since you have posted them here on the web for all to see. Just something to think about.

[Truegrits]

Thank you, Tom, for sharing.

Beautiful phrases with so much meaning; so much heart. You capture such emotion, such imagery, with your words.

Outstretched Hands and Our Savior were especially poignant, for me.

I wrote most of this in my late teens and early twenties

Have you not written anything recently?

[pam]

I loved the Timpanogos one. Since I can see that mountain every day...I will now look at it with the thought of it having a blanket.

[WANDERER]

Neat. Thankyou for sharing.

[kellymiller]

outstretched hands is the best

I love the imagery

I happened on this forum by looking for comments on modesty to make a poem

There are a lot of searches hitting my blog looking for modesty poems

maybe you can write one too?

ldspoetrybykellymiller.bogspot.com