"welled" poems
you don't understand at all do you
not truly
you think
I'm a liar
that I still hold the knife
that
stabbed you in the back
[and in the heart]
kinda speechless
that you feel that way
think that way
believe it
untrustworthy? misleading?
false emotions?
can you not read?
here let me try again
maybe I can make it like braille
feel the words
it's like when the clouds stormy eyes
welled up and let fall the
tears of weekend rain
soggy, we laughed along with the thunder
and under our waterfall we let the windows
fog
tell me I lied then
or picture if you will
standing by the tree I
always parked by
it was a starry night, but we didn't see it
we were too focused on our faces
except
why is it I was the only one
drowning in the sadness that overtook my eyes
shaking with each strained, choppy breath
clutching that gray shirt like a life jacket
do you think that was all
for show?
haven't you looked at
my collection of black and white
silly letters scribbled down as fast as possible
trying as hard as I can
to leave it all
on the paper
but it's as if each word I write
is a tattoo
slowly invading every part of my skin
it's sinking in, it's staining everything
do you think this agony I speak of
is fake?
if so
if I am that liar with the knife who
led you astray and ******* you over"
let you down, kicked you around
if you can't seem to
open your eyes
and notice
just how much I love you
just how much I always have
then you don't deserve it
ill run miles for you when I know I only
have the strength for one
but don't you
dare
watch me run
if you don't even grasp
that I stabbed myself in the back
led myself astray
you have a right to
hate the wound
but if you can't see
what I feel
one day
I will learn
that I have to let go
and I will
then all these silly letters
all for you
well. go ahead and throw them away
on that day
they will carry no life
anymore
Nov 13, 2011
Nov 13, 2011 at 6:59 PM UTC
Always her.
She's say what she doesn't do.
She do what she doesn't say.
She kills other's words,
with words she doesn't mean.
I'm ******
My anger welled up within,
But I cannot say it out.
I will one day, just wait.
I'm going to say it out to your face and make you know that you're wrong.
Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 8:14 AM UTC
The doctor tells me my results.
Three injuries in one.
I would need surgery.
Tears welled in my eyes.
I could no longer play the sports I loved.
Was this the end?
My ACL decided athletics had taken it's toll,
and my menisci was right along with it.
The bruised bone was a bonus though.
Was this the end?
Could I emotionally handle
the recovery?
The recovery of heartbreak from simple test results
The recovery from physical damage
The recovery of surgery that joined my main muscles back together again
The recovery of a new muscle, foreign to me
Will I ever be fully recovered?
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 12:32 AM UTC
"Remember in summer when we used to listen to the smiths and make out in that little hidden park?" He said with a little smirk.
"Tragically, yes." She didn't even look at him. She didn't laugh with him. She didn't smirk back. She looked ahead, stared at the open road, like it was a possible escape plan.
"I miss you." He didn't think. Its funny, the things you regret immediately, the things you regret as they're happening.
"No, you don't." The same monotone voice.
"Why cant we get over this?" Hes not angry, or pleading, or sad. Hes just asking. He doesn't expect an answer.
"Because I hate you." She said. This time she looked away from the road, she looked at him, dead in the eye. Her eyes were welled with tears, they did not steam down her face or smear her make up, they were just there. Like they weren't for anyone but her. And he didn't want to take that away from her.
"You're my best friend."
"I don't care. I hate you, with every fiber of my being, I hate you. I hate you like the sun hates the moon, I hate you." She said it matter of factly, trying to be hurtful. She didn't want him to think she was weak. That she would just give up on this.
"I cant loose you." His voice broke half way though, snapped under the pressure, hiccuped like a prepubescent boy talking to his crush.
She turned to him, lent forward and whispered in his ear.
"Too late." She turned on the ***** of her feet and melted away into the cool winters day, like she used to on those summer ones, where they would listen to the smiths, in that little hidden field, and make out. When they were best friends. When they both knew they could never be just best friends. When they both tasted like the american dream and homemade cooking. When the sun loved the moon.
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 6:51 AM UTC
I had put on weight,
I enjoyed life,
I was optimist,
I was my children's number one,
My husband had not left me,
Though my beauty was receding.
Didn't have time for beauty parlours,
I decided to sum up myself in the mirror,
Looked at my curves,
None at all,
Looked at my face,
Slight traces of beauty left.
Needed a face lift,
Smile still **** and beautiful,
Hair, high time I went to a good hairstylist.
I turned this way and that way,
I was no more stylish,
I was fading.
Tears welled up in my eyes,
I heard a chorus from behind me,
"BEST CREATION FROM GOD"
My three children and husband
gathered around me for a family hug,
We love you as you are,
Nothing More Nothing Less.
Jun 28, 2018
Jun 28, 2018 at 5:19 PM UTC
The little boy stood, with cone in hand. The ice cream on the ground.
The tears welled up in his eyes, as people stood around.
Tears fell like rain, his heart was breaking, he didn’t know what to do.
Then through the tears, saw grandpa kneeling… Saying, “Grandpa’s here for you.”
Grandpa said to the ice cream man “Another ice cream please.”
“Stack it high and pack it tight.” “We’ve got things to do and see.”
The little boy melted into his arms The sorrow turned to joy.
When grandpa’s near, all is better For grandpa’s little boy.
Oh, grandpa loves you Tony Boy Forever and always.
When things get tough, call on Him He will lead you through the maze.
When you get to Heaven, many years from now. You will find me waiting there.
I’ll be by the ice cream stand a waiting Just for you to get there .
The little boy grew to a fine young man. The time went by so fast.
He learned of things not of this world. The things that will always last.
You could see grandpa and the young man, Walking side by side through life.
When things got tough they called on Him, To help them through the strife.
Oh, grandpa loves you Tony Boy Forever and always.
When things get tough, call on Him He will lead you through the maze.
When you get to Heaven, many years from now. You will find me waiting there.
I’ll be by the ice cream stand a waiting Just for you to get there .
The young man cried when grandpa died. As they lowered him in the ground.
Tears welled up, in his eyes As people stood around.
Tears fell like rain, his heart was breaking. He knew just what to do.
So he looked up high to see the Father And heard “Grandpa’s here for you.”
Your, grandpa loves you Tony Boy Forever and always.
When things get tough, call on Me I will lead you through the maze.
When you get to Heaven, many years from now. You will find him waiting here.
He’ll be by the ice cream stand a waiting Just for you to get here
Oh, grandpa loves you Tony Boy Forever and always.
When things get tough, call on Him He will lead you through the maze.
When you get to Heaven, many years from now. Your will find me waiting here.
I’ll be kneeling right next to Jesus While I’m waiting for you to get here.
Good night sweet Prince. See you in the morning.
Jun 28, 2010
Jun 28, 2010 at 10:25 PM UTC
Today, I accidentally spoke to a stranger.
Seated at the round table with my laptop,
I stared at a couple speaking my language.
He caught me looking, and seemed confused.
I was embarrassed for staring
so I explained, "I understood them-
there aren't many other speakers that I know,"
and quickly looked back down.
And the feeling of regret welled up inside me.
It was far too late.
I can see him staring at me, now.
Burning holes into the back of my screen.
For a second I thought he might have been mute.
Why stare at me so hard without uttering a word?
I'm not wearing anything particularly interesting.
He must know that I see him in my peripherals.
What if he really is mute?
Maybe he needs some help?
Should I look up? I can't.
Why not? Because that would mean
I'd have to speak more.
You shouldn't have spoken at all.
I was embarrassed for staring.
He should be embarrassed for staring, too.
I hope I didn't "speak his language."
He probably isn't even looking at you.
We're the only ones at this table.
He keeps looking up from his book.
Maybe if I look at him quickly I'll know if he's looking
at the empty billboard behind me instead.
I just looked up.
He's looking at me.
And not a word was exchanged.
Now this is that much more awkward,
I'll never look up again.
I'll just pack my things.
And never speak to strangers again.
But wait...
what if he knows me?
What if he's waiting for me to recognize him?
I don't know him, I'm sure.
He won't stop staring.
I close my laptop
and see my motley stickers.
Some with writing, some with pictures.
Sigh of relief.
Just my stickers.
I'd look, too.
Packed it away
and went to class.
How silly was I, just then?
But I still won't speak to strangers, again.
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 7:25 AM UTC
I took a seat at the chess-board
I felt tense as a tightly stretched cord
My opponent turned around to face me
And a look of great fear did grace me
Feebly, I moved up a pawn
I felt vulnerable as a fawn
He smirked, and he brought out a knight
So consumed was I with fright
That I did do something so rash
I brought out my queen, and then CRASH!
My queen was captured by the horse
My face was consumed by remorse
I thought of offering a draw
I thought of my chess-playing flaw
Then I remembered one thing
That I was still badly losing
He brought his queen to the seventh rank
He knew that he had to be frank
With a knight of his standing idly by,
My king moved up, up into the sky
He clearly stated in a voice great,
I have won, you lose, Checkmate!
My eyes welled up with salty tears
My cries against the victor’s cheers
From this day forth I dread to play
Chess does make my mood so gray
I forever ponder the mess
That I made of that game of chess.
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 12:50 PM UTC
In your place,
I planted a golden shower.
On the southern border
Of a dilapidated, porous house.
When it rains,
Seeds sprout in the fields.
When the bugle sounds,
The dead come alive.
In your place,
I planted a golden shower.
I used leaves that have decayed
More than the usual
As manure.
I took handfuls of the sand,
That was measured out
For construction of the house,
And spread over its base,
Without any measure.
I diverted the rain,
That was flowing away lazily,
To its base.
******* trembled
As love swelled up within.
When it rains,
Seeds sprout in the fields.
When the bugle sounds,
The dead come alive.
In your place,
I planted a golden shower.
I kissed every leaf,
Without anyone seeing it.
Its veins looked like yours,
When I read them gently.
And when the eyes welled up
I made a ridge under them
With my soiled hands.
When it rains,
Seeds sprout in the fields.
When the bugle sounds,
The dead come alive.
In your place,
I planted a golden shower.
I will nurture it with love.
I will fight with ants and beetles
And even butterflies.
If it ever droops,
I will pamper it with sweet talks
And pet names uttered in its ear.
When it rains,
Seeds sprout in the fields.
When the bugle sounds,
The dead come alive.
In your place,
I planted a golden shower.
I will stand guard to it
In rain and shine.
I will tattoo on my palm
Its green, branches and leaves.
When it rains,
Seeds sprout in the fields.
When the bugle sounds,
The dead come alive.
In your place,
I planted a golden shower.
Tears
Spittle
*****
I will pour out the soul of life
Just for it.
When it rains,
Seeds sprout in the fields.
When the bugle sounds,
The dead come alive.
In your place,
I planted a golden shower.
In nights, when I really lose it,
I will hug it and cry my heart out.
I will shower it with kisses,
Drenched with tears and spittle.
I will lie down on its lap,
When the eleven bells crumble.
And when I feel naughtier
I will close my eyes
Get inside it
And hide in there.
When it rains,
Seeds sprout in the fields.
When the bugle sounds,
The dead come alive.
In your place,
I planted a golden shower.
One day,
It will flower.
And sing aloud, yellow yellow yellow.
The wind, birds and all creepers around
Will take up that song.
When it rains,
Seeds sprout in the fields.
When the bugle sounds,
The dead come alive.
In your place,
I planted a golden shower.
One day.
***
One day
I will open my day
With its sight
And fade away to next life.
It will wait for me
Till the next life.
***
‘ When it rains,
Seeds sprout in the fields.
When the bugle sounds,
The dead come alive.’
A requiem sung at funeral of Christians.
Apr 12, 2019
Apr 12, 2019 at 10:31 AM UTC
As I looked up at the roof over my head
Silent tears welled up in my eyes
Thinking of those without homes, seeking for shelter
Those whose cities were hit by a natural disaster
As I filled my stomach with food everyday
Silent tears welled up in my eyes
Thinking of those in poverty-stricken countries
Starving, fighting the hardship for centuries
As I cuddled my little one to sleep
Silent tears welled up in my eyes
Thinking of those who lost their loved ones
Due to fatal diseases or firing guns
As I lay on my bed every night
Silent tears welled up in my eyes
Remembering all the things I should be thankful for
Especially for still being able to breathe
And so much more...
Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 4:35 PM UTC
She spread her arms and embraced me
that familiar scent made me smile
I noticed the wrinkles on her arms
and my heart ached
she spent half of her life
preparing what's best for me and still..
she is here
comforting me at my worst
My eyes welled up as i held back my tears
thinking of all the things i couldn't do for her
My heart pounding in a rhythm
thinking of all the best things for her
As she got up to bring me my favorite snack
tears finally escaped my eyes
wiping them away quickly
i promised to myself
I'll never leave you maa
Mar 2, 2021
Mar 2, 2021 at 12:47 PM UTC
We live to eat, love, clean and work so one day we can die
A busy life style is where we strive
The spider runs from the broom only to see me, a human being
He stared at me waiting for fate
He knew I was meant to destroy his dark little body
Still and calmness as he waited
I sat next to him
My hand wouldn’t cooperate
He is nothing but beauty in a world that only sees his ugly
A voice told me, “He helps. It is your obligation to repay his generosity.”
My eyes welled up with humility
I felt a part of his unimportant soul was me
I thanked him as I let him go
Nov 1, 2016
Nov 1, 2016 at 11:25 PM UTC
I'M A SHOPPING CENTER SANTA CLAUS
FOR THREE WEEKS EVERY YEAR
IT PAYS MY RENT AND BUYS ME FOOD
AND BUYS A CASE OF BEER
I NEVER REALLY LIKED IT
'TILL ONE DAY TWO YEARS BACK
WHEN ONE SMALL CHILD ASKED ME
JUST HOW I FILLED MY SACK
I THOUGHT A BIT AND TOLD THE WAIF
THAT MAGIC FILLED IT UP
HER EYES GREW WIDE AS SAUCERS
JUST WAITING FOR A CUP
I TOLD HER HOW MY ELVES
MADE THE TOYS FOR ME TO GIVE
TO TAKE AROUND THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD
WHERE ALL THE CHILDREN LIVE
SHE ASKED ME THEN WHY DID I NOT
FULFILL HER WISH LAST YEAR
I NOTICED THEN, HER EYES WELLED UP
AND I KNOW I SAW A TEAR
SHE SAID THAT HER POOR MOTHER
HAD LEFT AND RUN AWAY
SHE PACKED HER BAGS A YEAR AGO
AND LEFT ON CHRISTMAS DAY
SHE DIDN'T LEAVE ME ANY GIFTS
SHE SAID IN HER SMALL VOICE
SHE ONLY LEFT A LETTER SAYING
SHE HAD NOT OTHER CHOICE
SHE ASKED THAT WITH MY MAGIC
I MAKE HER WISH COME TRUE
I'D SAID I'D TRY TO DO IT
I WOULD SEE WHAT I COULD DO
I WIPED MY NOSE AND DRIED MY TEARS
AND PUT THE SMALL GIRL DOWN
SHE TURNED TO LEAVE AND WALK AWAY
HER COAT WAS CHOCOLATE BROWN
IT WAS A FEW DAYS LATER
THAT SHE CAME BACK TO MY CHAIR
HER EYES WERE BRIGHT AND SPARKLING
AND SHE WORE RIBBONS IN HER HAIR
THANK YOU SANTA FOR WHAT YOU'VE DONE
THERE'S SOMEONE YOU SHOULD MEET
THIS IS MY MUM, SHE'S COME BACK HOME
SHE'S MY EARLY CHRISTMAS TREAT
YOUR MAGIC WORKED A MIRACLE
YOU MADE MY WISH COME TRUE
NOW I BELIEVE IN SANTA CLAUS
AND THE EASTER BUNNY TOO!
I DID NOT TRY TO FIND HER MUM
TO LIE WOULD NOT BE FAIR
BUT WHEN I LEFT THE MALL THAT NIGHT
I SAID A LITTLE PRAYER
I PRAYED TO GOD THAT SHE WOULD FIND
HER MOTHER BACK IN HER LIFE
AND THAT THIS SMALL, YOUNG CHILD
WOULD BE FREE FROM ANY STRIFE
I KNOW THAT IT'S A PIPE DREAM
LIKE WISHING ON A STAR
BUT I WISHED ON ONE A FEW YEARS BACK
AND SOMEONE HEARD ME FROM AFAR
I'M A SHOPPING CENTER SANTA CLAUS
FOR A WEEK OR MAYBE TWO
BUT LITTLE GIRL, WHEREVER YOU ARE
I STILL BELIEVE IN YOU.
Jun 1, 2012
Jun 1, 2012 at 9:01 PM UTC
My worst enemy and tireless companion
finally came to my door last night.
As I slept away the time of day
And killed my poor friend Time
He traveled closer to my home.
As I slowly cowered in the face of fear
And realized my mistake too late
As I chose to make a silly choice
He quietly opened the door.
Shame came in but didn't stop
And with every tear that welled up inside
He crawled in hot into my cheeks.
As the salty drops burned away my skin
He then moved on down to my throat
And choked me up till air was gone.
I gagged and shook, begging him to go
Openly admitting my sin
But Shame knew he could do more
And as I watched my world crumble
He eagerly attacked my heart.
As he dripped down to the hearth
He triumphed with his final mutation.
The pain of Shame is nothing
Next to that of his brother Humiliation.
There, in the privacy of my soul
He slaughtered my Pride with a blunted blade
As Sloth cowered in the corner.
When the room was red he finally paused
With a smile on his face at the lesson he left.
As he exited Responsibility came in instead
And from the door watched with sad eyes
Waiting for me to rise and finally apologise.
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 12:34 PM UTC
Once, I was excluded from love,
in bitterness I cursed all that I saw,
not knowing that this bitterness made me anathema
to the very sensations I pursued.
I spread hateful ideology,
made every effort to share my misery,
shouted condemnation at every pair of clasped hands,
every kiss I saw made me retch.
The bitterness welled up
and poured forth from me,
reppelling loves valiant attempts
at liberating me from my tower cell.
From my relatively pleasant existance
I fashioned my own tailor fitted hell,
which I wore everyday, steadily collecting filth,
so soiled I had become.
As I lifted the last shovelful from my early grave,
and prepared to climb down within
with my list of grievances against God
stapled to my shirt, so I might never forget,
my foot stepped out into the pit
but a gentle hand clenched my shoulder
and pulled me back from the hole,
and I turned and discovered love...
It does exist,
none need be excluded, if the feeling exists for some
all can be included.
Love not for the pleasure of it,
but for the pain, and strain,
so that we may constantly measure it against the ache of loneliness
and remind ourselves, that while love may be a neverending battle,
surrender to hate brings nothing but ruin.
Oct 7, 2012
Oct 7, 2012 at 11:28 AM UTC
The little girl stood, with cone in hand. The ice cream on the ground.
The tears welled up in her eyes, as people stood around.
Tears fell like rain, her heart was breaking, she didn’t know what to do.
Then through the tears, saw grandma kneeling… Saying, “Grandma’s here for you.”
Grandma said to the ice cream man “Another ice cream please.”
“Stack it high and pack it tight.” “We’ve got things to do and see.”
The little girl melted into her arms The sorrow turned to joy.
When grandma’s near, all is better For grandma’s little girl.
Oh, grandma loves you Payton Girl, forever and always.
When things get tough, call on Him He will lead you through the maze.
When you get to Heaven, many years from now. You will find me waiting there.
I’ll be by the ice cream stand a waiting Just for you to get there .
The little girl grew to a fine young lady. The time went by so fast.
She learned of things not of this world. The things that will always last.
You could see grandma and the young lady, Walking side by side through life.
When things got tough they called on Him, To help them through the strife.
Oh, grandma loves you Payton Girl Forever and always.
When things get tough, call on Him He will lead you through the maze.
When you get to Heaven, many years from now. You will find me waiting there.
I’ll be by the ice cream stand a waiting Just for you to get there .
The young woman cried when grandma died. As they lowered her in the ground.
Tears welled up, in her eyes As people stood around.
Tears fell like rain, her heart was breaking. She knew just what to do.
So she looked up high to see the Father And heard “Grandma’s here for you.”
Your, grandma loves you Payton Girl Forever and always.
When things get tough, call on Me I will lead you through the maze.
When you get to Heaven, many years from now. You will find her waiting here.
She’ll be by the ice cream stand a waiting Just for you to get here
Oh, grandma loves you Payton Girl Forever and always.
When things get tough, call on Him He will lead you through the maze.
When you get to Heaven, many years from now. Your will find me waiting here.
I’ll be kneeling right next to Jesus While I’m waiting for you to get here.
Good night sweet Princess. See you in the morning
Jun 30, 2010
Jun 30, 2010 at 8:05 PM UTC
Obama jetted
back to Africa
soaring aloft on
gulf stream swank
a posse of
oil company execs
in tow, intent on liberating
Dark Continent
fossil fuels from unjust
underground prisons
American
entrepreneurs
angling to get the
upper hand in the
high stakes global
resource poker game
pulled a big time race card
to trump China’s
full house
On Goree Island,
political paparazzi
popped and clicked
a perfect image
of the neocolonial
white clad President
framed in a doorway filled
with dark shadows and
heinous memory of the
unspeakable horrors
of global trade
leering from
the portal at the
Gate of No Return
Obama welled with
meditative epiphanies
of personal seachange,
and the vicissitudes of life,
pondering his meteoric rise
from a Land of Lincoln
State Senator to
American President
in the span of
one golden
9/11 decade
At a
South African University
Town Hall Summit,
the fist bumpin,
mike droppin Prez
telepromted the
star struck folks with
solemn universal civil rights
pronouncements,
wrapped in the riddle of
the pursuit of peace,
hidden in the enigma of
the reverence for
human dignity
Later in the day
Mr. Obama sat at the
feet of a comatose Mandela;
whispering into his ear
why an Afghan peace
eludes him, why his
drone strikes rain
death upon innocents
and why his democratic
republic defiles
the civil liberties of its
citizens to ransom
a daily diet of fear
But Madiba does not hear
Mr. Obama’s feverish
confessions; his
ears are closed,
he dreams only
of the paradise of
liberation he earned
for his life's hard wages
Music Selection:
Gil Scott Heron
Western Sunrise
Oakland
070213
jbm
Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 11:14 AM UTC
In Parsley, a Levantine munificence accreted together in Tabbouleh,
herbage that covers fractured bedrock in a poultice of healing.
Secreted within, lie igneous outpourings of bloodied tomatoes,
those solid affections that had welled through an ocean floor
as Neptune quelled Gaia's contractions, her waters seeking to burst
beneath the wrinkled surface of a salty sea. She, an underbelly of sky,
pregnant in the overwhelm of magma, sweating out her heart in fire,
muted like a moon of Neptune, in his retrograde soliloquies, yet mirroring
hers in icy resurfacings of skin. The God of the Sea, boils an amnion
to hazy mists, how deep will his trident plunge to dislodge those Trojan ships
of deceptions ? Yet, Triton blows a conch for Gaia, not for man's duelling
and his warring tribes. He soothes her feverish gnashing of thighs
labouring continents. Some fires burn in water, like desultory heartbeats
moving the pace of rocks through the ocean floor, spiriting away
to stranger places still, marking maps of memories in the beauty of
a stillborn magma. The limestone they say is no blood relation to such
alien fructification, those oceanic intruders, bleeding still, spilling
secrets in reds and purples. The acid tears spilled in lemons merely
neutralised in syllables, sedimented to a community of limestone,
that possess no archaic remnants reminiscing through dead bones,
an age of glory. Now beauty lies in herbage over once raucous magma
and traces of a salty sea, freshness of life trailing her veins, in fragrance of Parsley
Jun 24, 2021
Jun 24, 2021 at 7:15 AM UTC
The little girl stood, with cone in hand. The ice cream on the ground.
The tears welled up in her eyes, as people stood around.
Tears fell like rain, her heart was breaking, she didn’t know what to do.
Then through the tears, saw grandpa kneeling… Saying, “Grandpa’s here for you.”
Grandpa said to the ice cream man “Another ice cream please.”
“Stack it high and pack it tight.” “We’ve got things to do and see.”
The little girl melted into his arms The sorrow turned to joy.
When grandpa’s near, all is better For grandpa’s little girl.
Oh, grandpa loves you Lucy Girl Forever and always.
When things get tough, call on Him He will lead you through the maze.
When you get to Heaven, many years from now. You will find me waiting there.
I’ll be by the ice cream stand a waiting Just for you to get there .
The little girl grew to a fine young woman. The time went by so fast.
She learned of things not of this world. The things that will always last.
You could see grandpa and the young girl, Walking side by side through life.
When things got tough they called on Him, To help them through the strife.
Oh, grandpa loves you Lucy Girl Forever and always.
When things get tough, call on Him He will lead you through the maze.
When you get to Heaven, many years from now. You will find me waiting there.
I’ll be by the ice cream stand a waiting Just for you to get there .
The young woman cried when grandpa died. As they lowered him in the ground.
Tears welled up, in her eyes As people stood around.
Tears fell like rain, her heart was breaking. She knew just what to do.
So she looked up high to see the Father And heard “Grandpa’s here for you.”
Your, grandpa loves you Lucy Girl Forever and always.
When things get tough, call on Me I will lead you through the maze.
When you get to Heaven, many years from now. You will find him waiting here.
He’ll be by the ice cream stand a waiting Just for you to get here
Oh, grandpa loves you Lucy Girl Forever and always.
When things get tough, call on Him He will lead you through the maze.
When you get to Heaven, many years from now. Your will find me waiting here.
I’ll be kneeling right next to Jesus While I’m waiting for you to get here.
Good night sweet Princess. See you in the morning.
©9-15-06 John Stevens
11-08-2013
Written originally for my grandson Tony (8). People say we are joined at the hip. He is a 24/7 little guy and this is how I "wish"/"hope" life will be lived. I realized I needed to make a copy for Lucy Girl (4) so she will be included.
Ice Cream was written for my grandson Tony (Anthony Stevens) as a reminder how I want to be as an influence in his life. There is also an underlying deeper meaning as to our relationship to God. Our Ice Cream (blessings) hits the ground from time to time because of our neglect or possibly no fault of our own, but God is there if we just look up and see Him kneeling to take us in His arms.
It all started on a Sunday morning when my Pastor said, “imagine a little boy standing there with an empty cone in his hand…. and the ice cream is on the ground. The images came flooding in and by the time first service was over, most of it was written. Since I run the sound system I listen to both Sunday morning services. Much of what I have written about has come from a trigger on Sunday morning or something similar. What do you do when YOUR Ice Cream hits the ground?
It has been sung to a couple of venues.
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 10:12 AM UTC
Bye bye Mr. Blueberry pie
Checked the fridge for some milk
But the milk jug was dry.
The tears welled up
And I wanted to cry.
"Back into the fridge," I sighed.
"Back into the fridge," I sighed.
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 1:04 AM UTC
There was, once, a love that was based on a dance that lasted for two years.
She was a partner that wanted to compete for first place in a county fair.
She spoke soft, gentle words to put me at ease.
We began the dance, mutually significant in each other's eyes.
As we started to sweat, far into the first three months, she gave in and collapsed.
My heart fell to the pit of my stomach, and my eyes welled with sorrow.
We continued with our dancing practices, and did quite well.
We entered other competitions, sometimes we made money and sometimes we didn't.
Soon enough the county fair came a-rolling through again.
We tried again.
This time, the clock was already against us, but we were older and with more practice.
We began the dance, we tried as well as we could, we sweated and took delightful deep breaths in the middle of this event.
We were both pleased with the outcome.
We ended up agreeing not to be partners again.
Anyone up for a dance partner?
Jul 10, 2015
Jul 10, 2015 at 3:16 AM UTC
The little girl stood, with cone in hand. The ice cream on the ground.
The tears welled up in her eyes, as people stood around.
Tears fell like rain, her heart was breaking, she didn’t know what to do.
Then through the tears, saw grandpa kneeling… Saying, “Grandpa’s here for you.”
Grandpa said to the ice cream man “Another ice cream please.”
“Stack it high and pack it tight.” “We’ve got things to do and see.”
The little girl melted into his arms The sorrow turned to joy.
When grandpa’s near, all is better For grandpa’s little girl.
Oh, grandpa loves you Lady Sye Girl Forever and always.
When things get tough, call on Him He will lead you through the maze.
When you get to Heaven, many years from now. You will find me waiting there.
I’ll be by the ice cream stand a waiting Just for you to get there .
The little girl grew to a fine young woman. The time went by so fast.
She learned of things not of this world. The things that will always last.
You could see grandpa and the young girl, Walking side by side through life.
When things got tough they called on Him, To help them through the strife.
Oh, grandpa loves you Lady Sye Girl Forever and always.
When things get tough, call on Him He will lead you through the maze.
When you get to Heaven, many years from now. You will find me waiting there.
I’ll be by the ice cream stand a waiting Just for you to get there .
The young woman cried when grandpa died. As they lowered him in the ground.
Tears welled up, in her eyes As people stood around.
Tears fell like rain, her heart was breaking. She knew just what to do.
So she looked up high to see the Father And heard “Grandpa’s here for you.”
Your, grandpa loves you Lady Sye Girl Forever and always.
When things get tough, call on Me I will lead you through the maze.
When you get to Heaven, many years from now. You will find him waiting here.
He’ll be by the ice cream stand a waiting Just for you to get here
Oh, grandpa loves you Lady Sye Girl Forever and always.
When things get tough, call on Him He will lead you through the maze.
When you get to Heaven, many years from now. Your will find me waiting here.
I’ll be kneeling right next to Jesus While I’m waiting for you to get here.
Good night sweet Princess. See you in the morning.
©9-15-06 John Stevens
07-14-2014 For Sye
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 6:19 PM UTC
the morning wake-up call
from a horrifying dream sequence
the kind where you slowly sit up in silence
& stare at the wall
too shocked to make a sound
the nightmare was in itself normal
everyone was kind to me
but it felt untrue
they all had daggers hidden
deep in their palms
ready to strike at my slightest
faltering
I made my coffee and dove
into the online world
where he found me as a green dot
on the screen
sought me out and mentioned
that fate had once again not been
our mutual friend
& he had walked in my mother's
door just as I had left
the other day
the tears welled up
casting colorlessly behind my hair
I knew it too
I saw his car hiding in the back
but I kept on driving
I had to go
I had to go
now my hands are shaking
another outcome of
too much java
& not enough sustenance
he kept asking what was wrong
what was wrong
its all wrong, honey
& I'm two short tiptoes from
driving into
an open field
clutching unharvested crops
& screaming until my
lungs give
out
I should have stayed
May 2, 2012
May 2, 2012 at 12:47 PM UTC
Every year now, I note the differences:
the changes in the stones,
the retreating car park and what
is new to the waves.
It is slight. You try to hide it by
presenting the same places and
lacing them with memories that
all correspond.
But you are changing.
You take new beatings, and I can't
help but wonder if we are alike.
The process of erosion has caught
us both, and year by year,
cliff by cliff, it's wearing us down.
It was always supposed to happen,
but what if you change too much?
What will happen when you change
irreparably, irreconcilably?
Even now you are only an
imaginary home, so defamiliarized
from the dream I demand.
I know you promised me nothing.
But I had a deal you didn't know about
and you've ceased to make me happy.
I can't help but be a little angry
with you for letting the
storm break you down.
But is it really you, or is it me
who has done the changing?
Is it not my eyes and my erosion?
Is it not the attrition and abrasion
and the long shore drift
that has welled up inside my own soul?
Is it you or I?
How can we know?
Apr 26, 2016
Apr 26, 2016 at 1:08 PM UTC