'lynda' poems - Hello Poetry

Lynda Kerby Oct 2017

Dear Lynda,                                                                                                                                        Nov.8, 2001
     Hello.
I am sitting here, Thursday evening and have decided to write you a love letter.
Maybe you will receive this letter at a time when you need to hear the reminder that I do love you and I have for over 35 years.
Even during those years when I was pretty mean and called you names but I know you forgave me a long time ago.
     Thank you Lynda for never giving up on life.  God/fate/genes/self-pity/chemical imbalance or who knows what dealt you with many years of depression and you never let it win!
    I love that you are aware of the joys, quirks, injustices, wonders, tackiness, miraculousness, agony, humanity and inhumanity of this soap opera we call life.
You may not know why you are here but you always keep your mind open in order to catch a glimpse of a clue.
Keep seeking.
Keep learning.
Keep experiencing.
Keep loving.
Keep on keeping on.

     Dare to love yourself.

     You are still here and you are just fine.
You really are doing good.
One life time to live is a gift too precious to take for granted.
     Lynda, I love that you have always been introspective.
You have begun a project without knowing the outcome but always believing it to be regarded as a sacred duty.
     Never doubt that you are special.
Never suspect that you aren't less than awesome!
     I love you, Lynda and I will learn to love you more as the years go by.
You will do many good things and I am patting you on the back in advance.
You possess an irreplaceable essence of uniqueness juxtapositioned with a most common simple humble low maintenance bologna on white bread life.
     I love you, Lynda and I love that you love yourself enough to read these words.
     I love you when you are too ******* yourself.
I love you when you dwell on your problems.
I love you when you ***** up and take the blame and eat the **** sandwich and face the music and learn the hard way and I love you when you get back up, when you swallow your pride, when you face your fear, when you accept the truth and when you are left with nothing to believe in or nothing left to feel.
I love you despite everything and especially because of it.
     I love you, Lynda.
                                                                                                Thank you for being me,

Love,
Lynda

Bobby Ray Bagley Jul 2015

HOW TO DO LYNDA FOR DUMMIES

Bobby Ray Bagley Jul 2015

HOW TO DO LYNDA FOR DUMMIES

Mona Lisa clowned
Mona Lisa frowned
Lynda said she got browned
Lynda rolling, toiling, gliding
Hitting a meeting in town.

Riding, jammin, bamming
Moonlight in the lightning
Lynda cramming, driving
Blasting to the beat...

Badass ***** hitting, smashing
Thundering in recovery
You don't do Lynda,
Maybe or
Maybe not....Dummy

Loser Mar 2019

Lynda

Loser Mar 2019

Lynda

I don’t like the beach. And I don’t like sand in my sheets or salt in my water.
I don’t like crowded places full of half naked strangers or burnt skin peeling off of my neck. I’ve felt this way for quite some time, but my grandma begged to differ.

She had sea shells decorating hallways, and she had paintings in every room. Next to pictures of me and my cousins and in frames on guest bed night stands. She had closets jam packed with beach towels and drawers of polka dot swim suits. And she had a smile on her face when me and my cousins would reach the shore and finally get the guts to jump in.
I don’t like the beach, and If you knew, that would make you sad, but I swear to god that this time I enjoyed the beach in a different way.

The sun was just rising, and the wind was cool and calm, and the only people beside me were the ones I truly loved. We got to the shore in silence and mom wrote "Lynda" in the sand. Then She took out the box that was painted lightly with seagulls and blue waves. And from the box she put her ashes across her sand-written name, and we watched in silence and acceptance as the waves took her away.

I’ve neglected this burden for quite some time now, but a dear friend of mine is going through something that has reminded me to write of this.

#death #acceptance #love #ocean #beach #lynda #mom #smile #morning

Lynda Kerby May 2014

Written about 2 or 3 years before i knew the truth...

Lynda Kerby May 2014

Written about 2 or 3 years before i knew the truth...

My son Colton Ross Barrera
has been missing since Sept. 26, 2008.
I bet you can imagine how many times
I have typed that sentence...
I am finally reaching out to another mom,
perhaps for my own sanity...
I have had so many ppl say to me,
"oh Lynda, I am so sorry, I just can't imagine what you are going through"
as I would never have been able to imagine all this myself.
I had a slight interest in missing person cases in the past
but it was just another news story in my mind
and the ppl weren't real,
not until it hit home
and it was MY son that went missing...
I have been angry at God
and I have gone through all the stages of grief
and still go back and forth on those steps.
I remember when he 1st went missing
I made 50-75 phone calls a day.
now the phone is quiet
and there is no one left to call.
The police have put his file in a folder
and have labeled him,
not as handsome,
or quirky
or intelligent,
but he is stamped
with the label of COLD CASE.
I quit going to church
because I felt that if anyone knew where my son was,
they would tell me
and how could God be so cruel
and withhold such vital information from me?
I almost envy people that know
when where and how their child passed away
because they have a tiny piece of real estate to go to
and leave flowers
and have closure,
but I am also relieved
that not having a gravestone
at a cemetery plot to visit
still gives me hope that he is still alive.
In this modern day of internet,
I have his facebook account page
to look at
pictures of him
in which he never ages
and words written by him
which I wish I would have read
long before he went missing.
Time on a calendar
is marked
according to B.C. and A.D.
due to the life and death of Jesus.
I mark occasions
by how old Colton was at any given time--
"That re-run of Catdog came out in 2001? Colton was 11"
It is so bitter sweet
to watch Colton's younger brother grow up
and do some of the same mannerisms
as he did at that age.
My older son's have placed blame
and anger on me
and in some ways,
rightly so,
at my lack pf parenting
and causing their brother to go missing
and that has put a big chasm
in our relationship.
I suppose unless publishers
ever come out with a
"How to handle it when your child disappears and just seems to fall off the face of the planet, for dummies" book,
I will rely on the support
and guidance of other's who are traveling down this path with me.

— The End —