Friday, January 8, 2010

I dream angels whisper...

I dream angels whisper
that love is a leap of trust
Let it under your skin
Listen to the heart hungering
Embrace life by escaping into joy
Love gives life its fullness
Linger together through time
Explore the gift between souls
with true promise

This is a poem I "wrote" for my husband on the refrigerator about ten years ago in those "magnetic poetry Romance edition" tiles.

These are poems I wrote after my father died about five years ago.

Wicker Rocking Chair

Sun swings low in the summer sky
Daddy's calling, girls come in
Lightening bugs just getting glowing
Wicker rocker in the twilight
Daddy sits with us awhile

Momma wants us off to sleep
Daddy singing low
and close to curly heads
Rock-a-bye your baby
with a Dixie melody
rocker creaking, squeaking
trying to harmonize

Prayer Phone

Dreaming deep I dial the phone
I hear the ring and wait
My father answers from far away, "Hi hon."
It's Heaven I guess, my eyes open

This dream is fresh as tears
start falling.
He's so close, I hear his voice,
and now I see his face plain as day.

"Hey Dad how's the weather up there,' I say
'Do you live among the clouds?
Or are you making the devil wish
he'd lived a different life?"

I wrote this poem for Father's Day June 14, 1980:


One hundred feet tall
and unwavering
In the palm of your hand
sometimes wrapped round
your little finger
A volcano, always grumbling and muttering
hardly ever erupting
Your security blanket and water bearer
in the middle of the night.
Your comrade, guiding spirit
and friend.

See? I don't always write snark. Sometimes I write...and bare my real soul.


  1. Those are amazing. I cried. You should publish these and the other blog items. You truely have a gift.

  2. Beautiful...just beautiful...