Poems to Share

Children of our Children

The children of our children live on to tell their own story.
They represent the future that may not be ours to see.
The gifted talent that you helped create and guide,
Will create new wonders that have never been tried.
From parent to children to the next generation,
There should always be time for another celebration.
Make quality family time to travel and share.
Make memories for them to share with those in their care.
Treasure all those special moments and then make some more.
You never know when they will be needed more than ever before.

June 2015

 

Dear Family and friends,

We thank you for all your postings and notes that have
been sent. We appreciate all the offers of support and help.
After much family discussion, we believe the best way to
honor Jacque is twofold.

1. Spend time with your family and create some lasting memories.

2. Find a cause or have a cause and log time making our world a better place to live in.

These are two of Jacque’s wonderful attributes. For all those who want to do something, I cannot think of a better way to remember and honor Jacque.

Out to CA, for a journey that I hoped would never come.  2 hour flight delay
I write to manage what I must do.

Why I Love to Fly

The doors are closed and we are ready to leave,
We are ready to take off, I truly do believe.
Not so fast, a small delay, the pilot says.
You know that it’s going to be one of those days.
Unbuckle your seat belt, get up and walk.
You find other travelers with whom you can talk.
A small delay becomes a much longer delay
A minor repair before we can be on our way.
For me, I admit it takes a nervous toll.
Before you know it, we are ready to roll.
Up in the air, those who serve, do it just right.
At your service, to make it the best possible flight.
So you write it all down to help time go by.
Now you tell me, do I really love to fly?

With Father’s Day almost here, I have a poem that I wrote about my dad a few years ago.
The time reference is a little off but I believe that this tells Dad’s story.  Happy Fathers
Day to all.

From my Dad

 In later years, you could see how much Dad could teach
So many of those things to do are still within our reach
Fathers Day, for this year, is done.
You know it was nice being his son.
Poetry lines always running in my head,
Could have been lines my Dad would have said.
It has been 20 years since Dad said farewell,
He always had a song to sing and a tale to tell.
Card games to play, always looking to win,
Golf and bowling tourneys, let the fun begin.
Watching baseball with Dad could be the treat of the day,
Before long and you would hear, look at that bonehead play.
All the nieces to charm and grand kids to tease,
Dad did both with such wonderful ease.
A song to sing and you can hear that privy in the air,
I just can’t imagine anyone but Mom in Dad’s care.
When my bowling score hit a new height
I thought of you, Dad, driving home that night.
You have earned the right to rest on a heavenly cloud,
Know that with all your children, you can truly be proud.

South Dakota View

 The white puffy clouds fill the Dakota sky of blue.
Hills and sky offer a backdrop for the trees green hue.
It’s a hearty resident that survives the winter cold.
And summer offers the beauty of nature to behold.
Marks of western history are scattered across the state.
The vision of Mt. Rushmore is something to celebrate.
Hitchcock, Custer and so much more of our Western folk lore.
Deadwood, the Badlands and all the historic sites to explore.
The site of Crazy Horse and the work still being done.
I can see parts of the movie, “How the West was won”.
Gold mines in Lead and the gold rush story to tell.
The vast history of South Dakota is an easy tale to sell.

 

I have had the opportunity to write poems about many friends and
family.  Many years ago, it was Little League and our kids.  I wrote this
for Stephen last year and they still have meaning for me today.

Baseball Caps and Steve

Sometimes, I can still see him playing third base.
Or intent at bat, with a very determined face.
Game Day or practice, always looking to improve,
Drop a bunt, off to first, he could really move.
Practice catching a fly ball down in the street,
No matter if it is cool April rain or hot June heat.
Game Day Schedules were ours to meet,
With a clean uniform, washed and neat.
And all that remains, are baseball caps and a memory,
Of all that he was, and dreams that will never be.