Poetry Page

Poems submitted by members of Seniors Choice. -GUARDIAN ANGELS - Margaret Shiskin -THE OLD FARMHOUSE - Bea Sutten -RAINBOW TIME - L. Klassen -SANTA'S NAP - O. Lillie Randa -FULL CIRCLE - Lyn Barber -SITTING BULL - O. Lillie Randa -NOVEMBER 11 - O. Lillie Randa Taxes Tax his land, tax his wage, tax the bed in which he lays. Tax his tractor, tax his mule, teach him taxes are the rule. Tax his cow and tax his goat, tax his pants and tax his coat. Tax his tie, tax his shirt, tax his work then tax his dirt. Tax his tobacco, tax his drink, tax him if he tries to think. Tax his booze and tax his beers, if he cries then tax his tears. Tax his bills and tax his gas, tax his notes then tax his cash. Tax him good and let him know that after tax he has no dough. If he hollers tax him more, tax him til he's good and sore. Tax his coffin, tax his grave, tax the sod in which he lays. Put these words upon his tomb, "Taxes drove him to his Doom." And when he's gone we won't relax. We'll collect on the inheritance tax! (author unknown) In my Mother's Footprints I will Walk… For me she had a hug From the moment I was born Her love remained constant With the praise she would adorn. For me she took the time To teach values, morals, honesty Along with trust, kindness, respect And equality for humanity. For me she would listen carefully Sharing my joys, as well as sorrow With patience she let me grow Inspiring my dreams of tomorrow. For me she gave encouragement To live life with total compassion Forever to have faith, believe in myself And love with complete devotion. For me she still gives hugs Showing love in many ways What my mother has given me I will share with the world, always. Karen Lee, Kelowna We Owe It All To Thee, Lord We thank you God our Father, for the harvest time again. The crops that grew abundantly from summer's sun and rain. The bounty from the orchards, through many hours of toil, By hands that worked so diligently to bear the fertile soil. The beauty of the autumn, and peaceful calm it brings, The cool clear running water that nurtures all these things. We have so many blessings, Lord, some nations never see, With hearts now full of gratitude, we bring our praise to Thee. As we watch the dead leaves scatter in colors brown and gold, They tell us winter's coming, where soon the winds blow cold. We thank you Lord, for shelter, for fuel to warm our home, And we thank you for the privilege to call this land our own. Lord give us hearts to share it, and minds to understand, There still are needy people, throughout this prosperous land. Winnie Phillips, Osoyoos TREKKING A walking group the Trekkers are From the Senior Centre on a par They walk real fast Hope I can last And not be back too far. I bought some boots for hiking; Not sure they're to my liking. They seem a little wide, My foot has room to slide, A blister may be striking. The Mission Trail is neat and wide Until we cross to the other side .. There's stones and rocks There's stumps and blocks On a rolling stone my foot does slide. My toe rammed the end of my boot. I think my nail is off my foot. It hurts real bad, It makes me sad - My first walk success is moot. We're a long way from the parking lot A smoother place to walk I sought. Just keep going Snorting and blowing What a battle I have fought! The boot is off and the toe is black. The Group go to Food Court for a snack. To the doctor I will drive And I know I will survive. Senior Trekkers, 'I will be back!' Doris Lambert, Kelowna Fulfillment The door closes on spring Summer sweeps in Wearing blended hues Filled with promise. Full-throated songbirds Coo softly; carry food To nest fledglings… Filled with pride. Boys and girls shout Holiday are here Joie de vivre- Filled with anticipation. Mothers attempt a smile Take deep breaths Turn slowly to Unfilled cookie jars. Ethel Mitchell, Vernon A 'Little' Lesson As I swept the kitchen floor, one bright and sunny day I found a little bean seed that had somehow gone astray It landed in the dustpan, I nearly threw it out But then a thought came to me, "Maybe it will sprout!" I put it in my pocket, 'til one day it was found When I was in the garden, so I stuck it in the ground. I watched and waited patiently, I watered it, and soon I saw the first leaves peeking out, on a sunny day in June. It grew into a bushy plant, I tended it with care The blooms turned into yellow pods, 'til frost was in the air. I picked my ripened bean pods, and let them dry a spell Then I popped them, proudly, one by one, from out of each shell. I counted them so carefully, I had fifty-five or more From that one little bean seed, that I found upon my floor! I put them in the soup pot, but I thought I heard one fall I searched and searched to no avail, could not find it at all! Next spring as I was sweeping up the kitchen floor one day I found the little bean seed, and could not throw it away! And so, I planted it again, what else was I to do? And sure enough, just as before, it grew and grew and grew! I slowly came to realize, there was a lesson here And by the time the beans were ripe, it came through loud and clear The lesson that it taught me was, that when I sweep and clean To never underestimate, the POWER of a BEAN! -Margaret Shiskein, Kelowna The Stellar Jay he flew about And banged into my window. He shook his head and said, "I'm not dead, And why can't I get in there?" He tried again but made no gain So he turned and flicked his tail As if to say, "I'll go away And find another trail." Soon came a Magpie, long of tail Spreading wings of beauty. Said he, "I am big and strong, and I can break that window." He banged it once, he banged it twice, He rolled over and way dizzy. He stood up and flicked his tail And squawking said," It's crazy!" Off they flew to skies unknown To tackle greater things. If only I could fly up in the sky! If only I had wings! Georgina Rant, Kelowna Bird Squawks The late summer sun was taking its leave, through the shadows soft and long. An alpine breeze through the Tamarack trees, played the music of an old funeral song. And there on a bedroll lay a cowboy, beside a grave scooped out in the sand; A group of his friends with heads bowed low, each an old hat in his hand. An old Cocinero from the shadows appeared, no stranger to the scene that day, With a slow sure manner that spoke of his age, bowed his head and began to pray. "This lad was just a cowboy, Lord; of this I'm sure you know. On loan to us for a little while, but I guess now he has to go. You know the story Lord, we're just cowboys through and through, But we're gathered here this evening Lord, to see if he could ride for you. I sure do recommend him, he's as good as any I know, When it came to riding the rivers and bogs, he was always ready to go. And down in the draws where the cedars grow, with a dusting of snow on the ground, He would often lay his life on the line, and all for forty and found, And just at dawn this morning, Lord, coming in off his graveyard ride, He was singin' about salvation's cost, and how your son had died. He often talked about the old home place, with a far away look in his eye, And about the day he rode away, and the girl he left behind. He often mentioned his mother, Lord, and how she was losing her sight, And about the day he'd go back home, and try to make things right. No, he never shirked his duty, and he kept his cinches tight. He was never afraid of the rivers, and he knew how to bunch 'em at night. He's rode the Llano Estacado on his way from Mexico, Across to Albuquerque and along the Great Plateau, North to Butte, Montana and across the Great Divide, Up along the Chilko River, where much too young, he died. And now, dear Lord, his time is done, and he'll never ride back home. I don't know about things back there, I don't even know where he's from. But he often said he was a friend of yours, and some day he would ride for you. So I'm asking, Lord, would you take his hand, and make his dream come true." The stars hung low in a cobalt sky, as each placed a final stone. And there by a grave, 'neath the Tamarack trees, stood the old Cocinero, alone. In his final words, he said, "Dear Lord, I know there's a promised land, And I pray up there you'll find a spot for what we call down here, A Top Hand." McMuddles Hobby Seldom sleep comes easily, when you're at a stage in life 'You've been up most of the night,' says the knowing wife. Afflictions beset the aged, that can be a bother If it's not one thing, then it's another. Writing poetry can be a satisfying hobby Ideas streaming in lat at night; some good, other gaudy. Silly questions arise about things of the past Have no real relevance, should give it a rest. Going back in time, when first started school. Remember that Reader, teacher's working tool. Had a few rhyming poems, like 'Jack and Jill' Who went to fetch a pail of water, from way up the hill. Too young to question veracity of that poem, and still Much older now, wondering about water on top of a hill. Down hill, yes, there may be a pond or creek. Water on hill top, well, let's take a peek. Jack fell down and broke his crown And Jill came tumbling after. A likely story, when they came down So, where's the pail of water? Tumble they did or didn't, depends on your frame of mind. Whatever you imagine, leave this story behind. If you must tell as story, as in Jack and Jill, There is no such thing as water on top of a hill. -E.W. Drebitt - Regrets I'd like to turn the clock back To a different place and time, When cokes were just a nickel, And a comic cost a dime. I remember all my childhood friends As I wonder how they are, And if they ever think of me, Whether near to me or far? I'd like to see my father And the smile he always had, To see him dance a polka - That always made me glad. Or taste my grandma's cooking, From cakes to chicken soup, Or watch her make a rag rug Loop by patient loop. There are so many people Who are gone, and whom I miss; Why didn't I take the time then, For a visit and a kiss? But they all live in my memory Right here beneath my heart, And someday we will meet again Then never more to part. - author unknown - Canada's Unknown Soldier There's a monument erected Where our Unknown Soldier lies. The poppies there are sprinkled With tears from mother's eyes. As I stood there at attention My thoughts were of the brave, When suddenly I heard a voice Speak from out the grave: I am your Unknown Soldier The spirit voice began. I think that I have every right To ask you, man to man! Were my comrades taken care of? Was their victory complete? Was that better life they promised -selling matches on the street? Did they really win the freedoms They battled to achieve? Do they still respect the medals Above that empty sleeve? I wonder if my picture Still hangs up on the wall. I hope they never will forget Why "I gave my all." I wonder if the profiteers Have satisfied their greed. I wonder if a veteran's widow Ever is in need. Are those who really planned it all Now quite satisfied? They gambled with our future And A Hundred Thousand Died. I am your Unknown Soldier Perhaps I died in vain. But if I'd lived, my country called, I'd do it all again! Jim Hayes, Kelowna A Poem from 1910 School Days October Leaves October gave a party The leaves by hundreds came Chestnuts, Oaks and Maples, And leaves by every name. The sunshine spread a carpet And everything was grand Miss Weather led the dancing, Professor Wind, the band. The chestnuts came in yellow The Oaks in crimson dressed. The lovely Mrs. Maple In scarlet looked her best. The balanced to their partners And gaily fluttered by The sight was like a rainbow New fallen in the sky. Then in the rustic willows, At hide and seek they played. The party closed at sundown And everybody stayed. Professor Wind played louder They flew along the ground, And then the party ended As they balanced all around. -submitted by A.Mosser, who learned it from her mother 75 years ago- My Friend My friend met a lady, an unhappy wee thing, She loved and she nurtured her, took her under her wing. This lady had tough times and no real friend to speak; No children or family to care, Life was bleak. Her body grew frail and she became Oh, so ill. My friend stayed beside her, like family, if you will. This poor, weary lady put up such a fight. My friend was beside her, her guide to the 'light'. The little old lady learned then about love. My friend is so special, a gift from above. This should be a lesson to all, don't you see? We should care and love others less fortunate than we. So caring and generous, her hand she'll extend, My life has been blessed to have such a friend. -submitted by E. Monsma- hr Feeling unsure of God's plan for him, a young minister asked an older one for advice. Smiling, the older preacher handed the young man a rose bud and asked him to open it without tearing any of the petals. When it proved impossible, the elder recited this poem: It is only a tiny rosebud A flower of God's design; But I cannot unfold the petals With these clumsy hands of mine. The secret of unfolding flowers Is not known to such as I. God opens this flower so sweetly, Then, in my hands, they die. If I cannot unfold a rosebud, The flower of God's design, Then how can I have the wisdom To unfold this life of mine? So, I'll trust in Him for leading Each moment of my day. I will look to Him for His guidance Each step of the Pilgrim's way. The pathway that lies before me Only my Heavenly Father knows. I'll trust Him to unfold the moments Just as He unfolds the rose. -author unknown- -submitted by C.K.- You are who you are You are who you are for a reason. You're part of an intricate plan. You're a precious and perfect unique design, Called God's special woman or man. You look like you look for a reason. Our God made no mistake. He knit you together within the womb, You're just what he wanted to make. The parents you had were the ones he chose, And no matter how you may feel, They were custom-designed with God's plan in mind, And they bear the Master's seal. No, that trauma you faced was not easy. And God wept that it hurt you so; But it was allowed to shape your heart So that into his likeness you'd grow. You are who you are for a reason, You've been formed by the Master's rod. You are who you are, beloved, Because there is a God! -Russell Kelfer- 'Guardian Angels (Submitted to Seniors Choice - July 2004) -by Margaret Shiskin, Kelowna- "Do you believe in angels?" I was asked some time ago. And,"Do they have wings and halos?" "When they're here, how will we know?" I thought about it long and hard Many doubts came over me. Then, from deep within the answer came "Just believe, and it will be!" I have found that angels do exist And not just in the mind. For when they soothe a troubled heart They leave their love behind. Now I believe that angels Come in many shapes and sizes. Sometimes you know them right away Other times they're in disguises. They may not know they're angels They just 'happen' to be there. When you need some help or comfort In a moment of despair. They are present all around us Though they may not look as such. As they gently lift your spirits With a smile, or living touch. They may come by phone or letter Or appear at your front door, As a cheery friend or neighbour Or a delivery from the store! You just never know the moment That your angel will appear. When you need a hand to guide you You will feel an angel near. So, always please remember To give a thankful prayer To the Lord who sends us angels Anytime, and anywhere. Yes, I believe in angels And they're never far away. When you need them they are waiting, All you need to do is pray! The Old Farmhouse Bea Sutton, Vernon (Submitted to Seniors Choice - June 2004) I saw a dear old farmhouse So forsaken and forlorn Every window cracked and broken All the shingles gray and torn Once in all those now vacant rooms Children laughed and cried And it sheltered many people From the cold outside They're all gone But still it stands In silent loneliness Only echoes now remain Of sounds it once possessed. Around the fence tall grasses grow No flower borders there Only hardship will it know There is no one left to care Once it was a home to someone And for that I'm glad But to see it so abandoned Makes me very sad. Rainbow Time (Submitted to Seniors Choice - 2004 May) May you never miss a rainbow ' cause your eyes are full of tears… The promise in the rainbow can drive away your fears. When the world seems very dark and threatening the sky The rainbow's lovely colours remind you love is nigh. Rainbow's are illusive you mustn't wait too long, If you don't use the moment the rainbow will be gone. May you never miss a rainbow cause your eyes are looking down, Life is made to celebrate so let's dissolve the frown. -submitted by L. Klassen- TO REALIZE (Submitted to Seniors Choice - 2004 March) To realize the value of a sister Ask someone who doesn't have one. To realize the value of ten years, Ask a newly divorced couple. To realize the value of four years Ask a graduate. To realize the value of one year Ask a student who has failed a final exam. To realize the value of nine months, Ask a mother who gave birth to a still born. To realize the value of one month, Ask a mother who has given birth to a premature baby. To realize the value of one week, Ask the editor of a weekly newspaper. To realize the value of one hour, Ask the lovers who are waiting to meet. To realize the value of one minute, Ask a person who has missed a train, plane or bus. To realize the value of one second, Ask a person who has survived an accident. To realize the value of one millisecond, Ask a person who has won the silver medal in the Olympics. To realize the value of a friend, Lose one. Time waits for no one. Treasure every moment you have. You will treasure it even more when you can share it with someone special. DEPRESSION, The Great Storm - -by Susan Bryan- (Submitted to Seniors Choice - 2004 March) The great storm had come within an instant, With thunder and hail, with lightning And thick rolling black clouds. And when it was over, when it was done, it left With such a silence. It was as if It had never really been there at all, and I Wondered of the great cloud And how it was covered, and with what kind of shroud. The great storm claimed me for its own, And it spoke to me alone. It spoke in voices and visions of thunder, and hail, With strength or reverence, and dignity, that truth should prevail. Of such greatness, and grandeur of scale. Only to be revealed later as falsehoods, lies, and deceits. And in my eyes my great storm had suffered a shameful defeat. Many came to my great storm, I remember it quite well. The lovers, the haters, the counterfeiters, the music makers, Oh, and those who had a story to tell. Yes, they all came one and all, each one Speaking from bitter or sweet lives. Each one speaking truths or speaking lies. Not all came to be my friend, you know. I remember it quite well. But, later on, as the tempest grew out of control and became stronger And threw me about-later on, all did come to help. Some wanted to help with hearts of human kindness, Some wanted to be found true. But they all came, one and all, us and them together. Now, when I remember my grand and elusive storm, And all it came to mean to me- I see a little rainfall, And smile at the wonder of it all. SANTA'S NAP - by O. Lillie Randa (Submitted to Seniors Choice - 2004 January 11) Santa had been napping, and he awoke with a start, Children would be waiting and he must be on his way, So he looked for his pack, which now should have been ready, But it was still empty, which added to his dismay. Then he looked for the elves and for Mrs Santa Claus; They seemed to have vanished, so he let out a loud yell, Which frightened Mrs Claus, who came running in great haste, As something had happened, which by his voice she could tell. My pack isn't ready, and where are the elves today? I must be on my way, but it seems that I'll be late. But dear Santa she said, you are a day too early, Tomorrow's Christmas Eve, you have just got the wrong date. Though Santa felt foolish, he still had time to chuckle, For all would be ready; they could soon be on their way, With a well kept secret, about a nap Santa took, For Santa and Reindeer, would have a fully packed sleigh. SANTA HAS A SECRET, BUT MRS CLAUS WILL NOT TELL, SO WE CANNOT EITHER, BUT WE CAN STILL WISH HIM WELL! FULL CIRCLE - by Lyn Barber (Submitted to Seniors Choice - 27 October 2003) As a baby, others cared for me. They anticipated each daily need. And held me on their knee. Where will such good care lead? As I grew, on the floor, I did crawl Long before I did try to talk. Many a time I did fall. Before I learned to walk. Steps and ladders I did climb. Went up each hill and down I had an adventurous time. And seldom a reason to frown! I discovered I could jump a bit. Over a puddle back to dry land. Scarcely I had time to sit. No one needs to hold my hand. I enjoy being with my pets. My dogs run before me and after me. It is a game and no one frets. The cats do quickly climb a tree. I like playing with my friends. Within the safety of our yard. There is so much to do and playing isn't all that hard! Soon off to school I went And learned so many valuable things. Wonderful teachers God to me sent Mountains of information each one brings. New games I learn in P.E. class Much about science and our world. Years in school did too quickly pass For me, information daily unfurled. Out in the workforce now I go. I try various jobs over the years To a challenge I seldom say no. A task well done to me brings cheers. I meet that special man! We date, then marry in due time. All this is part of the plan- Lean years we scarcely had a dime! We wanted a child, as couples do, And God sent us just one. And this we know is true Couldn't have been blessed with a better son. Our child grew-went on with life Learns, plays, works and then Selects and acquires a charming wife. They have one daughter, not ten. My darling spouse dies unexpectedly. A great shock to one and all! I will now live independently And upon my Savior for help call. I retire from teaching in 1987 To write poetry, read books, too. Discover retirement isn't heaven! Was it the same for you? I've had my share of good health But it seems to try to end. I guess it, too, is like our wealth It "moved around the bend"! I no longer am able to do all I wish I cannot jump, climb or run. Or dive or swim like a fish, Bit I still find channels of fun. I moved to a retirement home. There are many "lost souls" here. I feel I soon will no longer roam To visit those I hold so dear. I use my walker or a cane To move from here to there. At times I feel much pain Getting on or off my chair! Unexpectedly-a lonely man Came into my changing life. He asked me if I can Become his faithful wife. Changes are constant for all of us, As our world, too, does change. I ponder but didn't fuss At making my life strange. Each week I know I do less. My body is tired and worn! And now truthfully I do confess About that I am not forlorn. The bible tells us what will come. We one day will be left to be With parts that no longer "hum" And others then will care for thee. Lord, I am ready when you call And look forward to eternal rest. I pray I can again stand tall Knowing I gave my best! STORY OF SITTING BULL - by O. Lillie Randa (Submitted to Seniors Choice - 08 November 2003) Along the prairie Badlands These great stories are still told Of the Sioux and Sitting Bull Stories many times retold. You'll hear about Custer's Stand And why they were forced to flee All the way to Canada Where the Sioux could then feel free. You'll hear about their struggles As food sources did decline With deals made they had to go Back across the Border Line. You'll hear about promises Which the ones in charge had made The Sioux could now live in peace And their concerns would then fade. They'll tell you that before long Troubles came and we do know That death came to Sitting Bull Revenged at last by his foe. Though those days are in the past Yet it seems you still will hear Of Sitting Bull and the Sioux Stories of a past frontier. NOVEMBER 11,2003 - by O. Lillie Randa (Submitted to Seniors Choice - 08 November 2003) The days go by, the years go by And yet we all do remember Past sacrifices made by those Whom we honor each November. Many who served have now grown old And sometimes peace seems far away But there are those who are still young Protecting us the same today. We pray for them so far away As they still serve on land and sea So on this day we'll honor all Who've fought to make this world more free.

 

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