Children Abandoned

MeeAugraphie
01/09/10

This Late Night Gave Way to Memory’s Dawn

MeeAugraphie
04/11/09

12 of 30, 2009

Prompt: Poefusion. It was to take a favorite poem and add a line between each pair of lines to make a new poem. After a long (though great) day, I had no patience to search through favorite poems; I chose to just grab yesterday’s poem and add a line after each line – then added to the title as well.

This is a great prompt. I am so excited Michelle chose it. Such potential it holds.

To read my original poem just scroll down or click here: This Late Night

Y’all should try it — often. I know I will, but I bet it won’t always be easy.

Child, Connection Weak

Marcia McLees Bogaert
04/08/09

08 of 30, April 09 Prompt: Live observed

03 of 30, April 09 Prompt courtesy of Michelle at Poefusion: Friday Five! She posts a prompt a day during National Poetry Month, but also, posts prompts, and other information on Poetry every month. Check it out:

48. Big Girl

and he no longer slapped her hand away
for she no longer reached
for that which she should not touch

“a big girl now,
my daughter is,”
he’d say to all nearby

“she can cook (toast with jam)
and leaves toilet paper on the roll
(she no longer uses it to boldly wrap
the tired old dog or mean old cat)”

“a big girl now,
my daughter is,”
he’d say to all nearby

“and proud of her,
I surely am,
though she refuses staunchly
to fetch my slippers
or race me to the car
for another ride”

“16 is too old,”
she said to me,
“to be a passenger
with the likes of thee!

now give me the keys
you promised me”

and, yes, he turned them over
along with admonishing words…
and a secret smile of pride

MeeAugraphie
02/25/09

Yes, I know, I made a mess of the punctuation in this… but life is about making mistakes and not making them, 99 percent of the poetry found within these pages is unedited after the fact, and very little is edited at all, though I usually do have punctuation done “my way”. This time, I was undecided on what “my way” was, so chose to post it anyway. These poems are written without forethought or planning, other than the first line being the last line of the previous one in my Poetry Tumble Series. Find out what prompted the first poem and view the journey to this poem by clicking on Poetry Tumble page at the top of this blog. Why not tumble your own series of poems? The great thing about it is when you have nothing to write about, you really do, just revisit the last poem and start writing.

EDIT: That’s not all I made a mess out of, this didn’t even have the line from the previous poem… Therefore, is not longer part of my Poetry Tumble, but merely a poem I like.

47. Victory of Persistence

MeeAugraphie
02/24/09

Find out about my Poetry Tumble, from whence it came, and in chronological order by clicking on the Poetry Tumble page tab above.

Death Came for One…

Honoring J was primary in minds and hearts that day.

For some, quiet tears flowed freely at the church
as they had at home for days.
For others, practiced stoicism kept their tears
behind doors with leaky weather stripping
that allowed pained expression to infiltrate
the room, but kept the drops from
splat
splat
splat
down paled cheeks.

In some families
it appeared it was the women
who flexed their strength that day,
as they kept tears (at times) to a trickle
and showed their gracious side
and I knew we just had more practice at spreading out our tears
while the men had practiced holding in, forgetting
overwhelmed dams do burst.

In our family, two women rubbed their husbands’ backs
as the normal male show of bravado
crumbled to reveal the side
most had merely glimpsed.

One young woman had not her husband’s back to rub
… only that of their toddler….

One after another,
scattered over hours,
people commanded their feet take those last
steps toward the door of reality they knew
must slam full in their face,

and they approached
wife and toddler,
mother and father,
sister,
grandmothers,
aunts and uncles
cousins and friends

Each time they opened their mouths
and demanded their hearts speak,
having given up on their brain’s
ability to form a cohesive sentence

and most breathed a hidden sigh of relief
as words came and sentences from their heart completed
and hearts opened to collect them in an effort to crowd out unshed tears.

No one doubted hearts hard work ahead.

All seemed grateful as oxygen momentarily returned to their hearts
in the midst of the hurt that threatened to choke,
for the flow restarted at times most needed

Smiles leaked out when memories,
too funny to deny by muscles once used,
escaped to be reformed in words

Smiles erupted from the tidal pull of children:
too young to understand adults crying more than ever before,
too young to understand why tears poured harder after
laughter dared break silence
as slides of cuteness gave way to slides of promised future unmet.

Parents spoke silent thanks for sons or daughters
who still had futures before them,
but guilt that their children remained
would be hard to reconcile against this loss,
as subtle gestures or crushing hugs
reminded that their children
still remembered and sought
the comfort of mommy and daddy,
still brought laughter at the child that remained inside,
still brought pride as they learned to deal with living
still hugged their wives or children

and one young man, who had so often, did not anymore…

but this reconciliation was shoved behind the scenes
to return in midnight’s midst
to meld with worry for his wife and child
that had darted in and out all day.

Remembering J was primary in minds and hearts that day.

LIfe Moved Forward for Another

Honoring J was primary in minds and hearts that day

yet this day fell on our son’s thirty-first birthday,
so we privately acknowledged such -
and knew how hard his week would be
for unequal celebrations like today
would slug him later in the gut
not once, but twice, as J’s thirty-first birthday
and his – were merely days apart

and the scheduled celebration was scheduled days too late.

We were proud that our son (among others),
had jumped right in to help,
had braved shared tears, and thrown laughter
with family and with friends

We were proud of his compassion,
and even that he hurt, for that was one barometer
he had become the man we hoped,

Yes, we sighed in relief
as he had the control to walk forward
when it became his turn
to read scripture in clear voice
so that all could understand each word
in an ages old attempt to comfort,
for we knew he doubted his strength
to hold back sobs and though all
would understand if he faltered,
it mattered to him that he not leave words unheard.

And it was not our support, this time, that
truly steadied him as he read, but that of another friend,
standing beside him, ready to take the reins, in case.

No, it was not my my hand that rubbed his back
when dammed tears overran their banks
for hers was already there
and we knew that meant
that she and he would be alright,
as she had strength to flex for him
and the love to want to do so;
and he, we also knew, had the same to give back in return.

And other things were thought and shared
that warmed special places in our hearts
and for Leon and I, even with
so much positive wangling in
to mix with our crying hearts that day,
even knowing a few smiles had wangled
or would wangle eventually into the hearts
of all else left behind,

this guilt that our child
remained would be hard to reconcile against their loss,
as subtle gestures and crushing hugs
reminded that our child still remembered
and sought the comfort of mommy and daddy
(and wife and friends and internal thought)
still brought laughter at the child that remained inside,
still brought pride as he learned to deal with living
and still hugged his wife and might a future child

and theirs, who had so very often, did not anymore,

but this reconciliation was shoved behind the scenes
to return in midnight’s midst
to meld with worry for his wife and child
that had darted in and out all day.

Remembering J was primary in minds and hearts that day, but
N was never ever very far away.

Celebration of Death and Life Collided

If truth were continued as it began upon this page,
J and N shared space in our minds and hearts that day,
and at this point I will speak only of my mind and heart,
as it often flies to lands beyond another’s grasp.

It was not that J or N did rise or fall,
they chose to rotate in and out,
to bring smiles and tears, tears and smiles, just two friends
shoving one aside to take center stage for himself,
then bowing grandly and allowing the other
his rightful opportunity to take center stage again

and as rowdy boys often did,
they slugged it out, and one would win,
the other would fall out of sight,
then one would reach out to push the other
forward, a show of chivalry.

I relaxed momentarily to just enjoy the show

and I for one, found contentment in this
game in heart and mind.
It was not only guilt or sadness that sprang
as memories of J invaded silences
or interrupted noisy thoughts,
or joined in with thoughts of our son that day,

it was also gratefulness
that we had been among those lucky enough
to have been, at least, bit players in J’s life on earth.

Parents spoke silent thanks for sons or daughters
who still had futures before them,
but guilt that their children remained
would be hard to reconcile against this loss,
as subtle gestures or crushing hugs
reminded that their children
still remembered and sought the comfort of mommy and daddy,
still brought laughter at the child that remained inside,
still brought pride as they learned to deal with living,
still hugged their wives or children

and one thirty-one year old man, who had so often, did not anymore…

but this reconciliation was shoved behind the scenes
to return in midnight’s midst
to meld with worry for his wife and child
that had darted in and out all week.

Remembering J was primary in minds and hearts that day
and N resides there every day,
today my mind made sure they had one more chance to play.

Marcia McLees Bogaert
02/09/09

Leon and I though this, in part, of J.

On NIgel’s birthday, J’s funeral mass was held, I kept my birthday words for Nigel quite simple publicly that day, but the depth implied was heard, I hope.

Those five words were chosen by Michelle for Friday Five at Poefusion. They took me to Christmases past and brought me full circle to today, living in the moment, yet full of hope for the future. Where is your head when you think of Michelle’s words? Why not share them and link back to her post so we can all find out?

SRCRC Invoked

If I were to see snow again, I would feel at home in my heart;

Reindeer in flight would bring a child to my lap and the roof would be loud with their clatter;

Carols sung would bring the sound of Leon trumpeting in the car (no instrument other than his mouth) as we sang along (the words we knew, that is);

Red still brings sunburned cheeks or wind frozen noses and thoughts of the teeniest of toesies;

And Candy, well, candy is instant gratification, and transcends all holidays, though, today a baked potato or smashed potatoes with garlic would bring the same;

and a Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a future of smiles and memories alike.

My thoughts on 12/27/08

I know almost exactly what I want for a template for this blog and am hoping I can pull off getting what I want as my little splurge when the house sale closes… We have a signed contract!

And, yes, we move into a rental condo on the beach and were enjoying our early morning walks, though not every day. Then BAMMMmmmm, we took an early evening walk and fire ants had claimed the sand walkway from the beach entrance… Leon got several bites, but for once did not react, though by no means can he afford to take a chance of getting multiple bites. We saw enough hospitals over fire ants before.

So, in essence, as far as I am concerned, since we have no balcony and no view of the ocean from our windows, we moved out here and are stuck out here for less than a month of beach walks. The beaches we used to walk at were public beaches and with so many people trampling the entrances fire ants were not an issue — at least those months. Neither of us thought of it being any different, I suppose we got careless. It is going to be a long year’s lease…with the wind and the morning and evening sky beckoning – and our feet planted firmly on concrete inside.

So, I suppose in my own way I have been pouting, missing Washington’s cooler weather, the mountains, the fleece on the beach in summer at times, the farmers markets, and missing mostly just not worrying about fire ants every time we step outside. That said, I do not regret our move – at least as long as he is careful… it was important to him, will be our ticket back to WA and our RV eventually – and though I would gladly trade all that for his safety…. he is a man and it was his decision to make, not mine…. and most of me actually believes that….

And seeing our son and daughter-in-law more often has been a good benefit.

One more thing. Thank you for being true to yourself. It took me a while to consciously associate you and that fact, though I think instinctively, I knew all along. Just wanted you to know I was finally aware.

Love,

Marcia

P.S. I still have the drawings you did in the Veteran’s Hospital the afternoon I thought to bring colored pencils and paper. You didn’t talk much then, but you remembered how to sign your name – and you drew two heads, a man and a woman’s. I realized you were drawing you and Mom. Even though it is a memory wrapped in sadness, it is a wonderful memory – because it means you were still inside your mind at that time. And for the record, your signature was just the same as always.