Poetry

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(Group II)
It's Gone
Taking Form
Choir of Angels
Spun Gold
Gift of Love
Below the Heart
Daniel
Engraving the Draw
Sentimental Changes
Blessings for Joel

It's Gone

I drove back to the old home place.
Leery warnings warred with the decision
to face skeletons, boldly drag them
from nails they hung on in closets.

It sat on the southern corner
and across the street from the elementary school --
Empty lot.
I envisioned tall ceilings,
wood floors,
missing bricks from the front porch banister
and rickety walls.

Concrete protruding from the ground --
musty storm cellar --
all that still exists.
It was my hiding place,
gladly shared with spiders
and Mom's canned preserves.

The bell rang,
releasing swarms of excited children.
Scattered in all directions,
a few made their way across
the empty lot.

"No! Don't put your feet
on that corrupted soil!"
My soul screamed in wordless fear.
Your soft voice reminded me,

"Dry your tears.
It stood for one night
but now, it's gone.
Go home."

I sat outside Your house today.
Love, pure and wholesome
pours out like rivers from its windows.
I didn't want to go inside.
I wanted only to bathe in its warmth.

I walked to the back yard,
looking over the lake,
deeply breathing in fresh, clean air.
I was home,
my home away from home.

Pulling the door handle to leave,
my car was locked
with the key in the ignition.
You left me no choice
but to come inside,
to face real love I'm unaccustomed to.
© Joyce Pool

Taking Form

Rocks in rivers,
beaten for an age,
and another age,
take a form
of beauty,
rarity,
when no stillness
can affect their molding
to perfection.

While I wait
and river runs
across me in its
madness,
rushing to open sea,
I still look to shores
and rocks
who've never felt
beating water's
hand.

How long
until my form
is perfected,
or is, at least
perfectly me
and I can appreciate,
no, even be part
of river's
beauty?

Standing on the banks
in stillness of night,
what do you see?
Does silver moon
shine on my surface
or are my edges
yet rough
to touch?

Will you walk
in rushing water
to pick me up,
turn me in your hand,
examine
the rarity of me?
Will you walk away,
afraid of water
that made me
who I am?
© Joyce Pool

Choir of Angels

Thousands of angels sing
a song of hope and peace.
A great, white eagle’s wing
wraps me in warmth like fleece.

Their songs teach me to rest
in gentle slumber at night,
granting grace while I nest
beneath a wing in flight.

They sing "Holy is the One
whose wing stretches out wide
to comfort and protect
those who are called inside."
© Joyce Pool

Spun Gold
For my grandson, Joel

I found my crown of gold
resting upon your head.
I never dreamed for a moment
the gold would not
be metallic.
It is, rather,
spun gold.

The world
may very well have stopped turning
for a split second
while you made
your grand entrance.
You are a prince
and you've captured my heart.
It cries out for the comfort you lack.

I wish I could take you in my arms
and make your life
one of perfection,
of grace, of peace,
and of joy.
Sadly, however, I am human
and can only offer you the whole
of my own heart
and my prayers.

I stroked the spun gold hair
that rests so easily
down your forehead,
a natural glow
that appears so unnatural,
a halo.

You looked into my eyes
and I knew
I'd never be the same again.

I held you so closely to my chest
that your sigh
touched me below
the waterline: down,
somewhere inside
and even below my soul.

We're going to be okay.
I know that,
just as I know
you'll always be
an angel
who wears a crown
of spun gold.
© Joyce Pool

Gift of Love

gift of love
carried on a breeze
grace landed its wings
on my windowsill
though pain
comes swiftly
lingers long
it helps to find
the gift of love
carried on a breeze
when grace lands its wings
on my windowsill
sorrow with night
joy with dawn
when grace lands its wings
on my windowsill
the perfect gift of love
carried on a breeze
© Joyce Pool

Below the Heart

Song of Solomon 5:6
I opened to my beloved; but my beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone: my soul failed when he spake:
I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he gave me no answer.

How can I give you words
when my soul speaks
unperceivable secrets?

It cries out in hunger
to meet your own
in all its hiding places.

Watching from a distance,
I see you run,
knowing my soul calls your name.

Are you afraid of this-
of what we have?
Does my knowing drive you mad?

When you tire of hiding,
it takes one look
to meet me somewhere below

the heart.
© Joyce Pool

Daniel
For my loving son, Daniel: I miss you, Son.

from the very center of my being
I love you
I would lay my life down for you
you already hold it
in the palm of your hand
at times the air is so thick
with my love for you
that I can hardly breathe
I wish you knew
just how my heart aches
to hold you
and never let you go
Daniel, love of my life
the reason my heart
continues to beat
perhaps one day
you will see
how thick the air can be
when you hold your own
and kiss the forehead
of one you cannot keep
© Joyce Pool

Engraving the Draw
The following poem was written for the “Draw” romance poetry contest.

Kindred spirits,
called to mesh
together, into one,

utterly engraved
onto one another's
conscious awareness,
are meant to be there,
without doubt.

Let it sleep --
misplaced guilt,
for feeling so drawn.
It's only what you need,
so heed that draw.

Fear not.
Win your girl.
You will. After all,
she's already yours.
© Joyce Pool

Sentimental Changes

paper magic displays
of handwritten
I love you's
on satin pillowcases,

smiley-carved surprises
on sandwich spread,

playful tickles
here and there,

shoulders to cry on,
enough compassion
to get by on,

whispered secrets,
sweet nothings,

sacredness I lived for,
would have died for,
broken down
for the world to see

too much for me --
these sentimental changes:

I wondered, once,
what happened to us,
but remembered it was just me.
Good thing too,
I've gotten over you;
I'm able to love openly.

No sentiments
ever created
could have fixed the past that taunts you,
nor could I,
although, I sure did try,
so my love to this day haunts you.

We were children,
oh, so innocent,
forced to mature before our time,
handsome pair
with our song in the air
mingled with nursery rhyme.

I held on tight
despite all the pain.
I never wanted us to end.
I was wrong
to hold on for so long
with a wound that could not mend.

I needed you,
my babies' Daddy,
perfect husband for me it seems,
oh, so much
but I could never touch
your heart with its broken dreams.

Are you lonely?
Do you miss your wife?
I wish we could've fixed the break.
It's okay,
I wouldn't anyway;
Already over the ache.

I still love you,
guess I always will,
but I'd like to see you go on,
make a life,
get yourself a new wife,
build for your heart a new dawn.

When tragedy strikes its cruel blow, it leaves its victims cut to pieces.
I'm afraid of neither wind nor snow, I have a masters in life's new leases.

Treava J. P. T. -
angry only at circumstance
forgiving of man
living minute by minute
in the palm of Jesus' hand
© Joyce Pool

Blessings for Joel

All the things I give you,
Joel,
Weren't handed to me
On silver platters
Nor with silver spoons
To consume them --
Wholehearted laughter
To fill your days
With joy and happiness,
A long prosperous life,
Just as your soul is to prosper,
A gentle kiss for your boo-boo's,
A soft cloth for your tears,
Love to surround you,

All spoken
In whispered prayers
Through your Mommy's bellybutton,
And, if my Father's willing
A handsome young step-Grandpa
To take the two of us fishing
And slide his arm around
Your Grandma,
Just letting her know
She may be Grandma,
But she's still got it.
© Joyce Pool

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