Category: Poems

Reasons to Stay Married

By , September 7, 2012 8:15 AM

My paternal grandparents … married until “death do us part”.

Marriage

A quarter of a century –

Twenty-five years

Of marriage, he and me.

Tears, fears and many beers –

We have evolved

 

Into a couple more

Than each of us is alone.

The divorce rate makes me

Shudder and wish to advise

Persevere! For you know not

 

How soon marriage might

Become life-long friendship.

Shelve criticism … for

Despite gray, thin, and fat.

Only my husband knows my journey.

 

The mirage is, “in love”

If only you knew –

Those who persevere learn –

Infatuation morphs

Into something much

More enduring.

 

Copyright 2012 Brett Valentine Winn

Growing Old, Let Me Grow Lovely

By , September 6, 2012 8:15 AM

Love

The photo is my own; the poem is from a greeting card I gave to my grandmother on her 80th birthday:

Growing old,

Let me grow lovely.

Laces and ivory and gold

and silks need not be new.

There is healing in old trees.

Old streets, a glamour hold.

Why may not I as well as these

Grow lovely, growing old?”

Why Does She Want to Be My Friend?

By , September 5, 2012 8:15 AM

BFF

Friendship

Few people

have been so blessed

As to have a friend

like my

friend.

 

I remember

when we first met.

She taught horse riding lessons and

seemed so normal.

(I did not understand normal, at all.)

She is … normal. I marveled

to my husband,

“She acts like she wants to be my friend.

I don’t know why …. what is wrong with her?”

There was nothing wrong

with her …. she simply

overlooked

what was wrong with me.

 

Copyright 2012 Brett Valentine Winn

The Mother Plant

By , September 3, 2012 5:10 PM

Begonia blossom, frosted by light

 

Beautiful begonia, you

were bequeathed to me

by my mother,

her body

three years cold

in the ground,

her spirit

I know not where.

If it is true

there are no tears in heaven

then perhaps indeed

He saves the

simple hearted.

 

I warm your foliage in my palms

each morning

share left over nighttime drink,

give thought

for the hands

that first nurtured you

and me.

 

She left behind

your green leaves

that stretch and yearn

for the pale winter

that streams through the window.

Your salmon petals,

like a heart —

frost

in the sun

like hers.

 

I brush away

a water droplet —

accidentally touch

the sore spot

where this loss

seems not

to heal.

 

Copyright 2012 Brett Valentine Winn

Who Prayed for the Child?

By , August 31, 2012 6:15 AM

Did you pray for me?

Who prayed

for the

lost,

lonely,

timid

child

in the time far off,

when

the world made

no sense,

back

before numb?

When

feelings

were big,

and dark,

and days

were

shot with colors

too bright

to see?

 

Who prayed

for the child?

Did you?

 

Copyright 2012 Brett Valentine Winn

Housekeeping to Heaven

By , August 30, 2012 6:54 AM

What stories could these hands tell?

 

Frame me

with reason

in a better light,

so the patina

of age looks

more like wisdom

and less like wrinkles.

 

Shine me

to soft glows.

Let my eyes twinkle

and these gnarly hands

of age look

strong and able

and less like claws.

 

Sweep me

free of dust.

Open me.

Let sunshine and breeze

fill my heart –

more like Springtime,

and less like Fall.

 

Place me

justly so.

Distill from my days

faith leading to heaven.

Make death seem

more like future

and less like loss.

 

Copyright 2012 Brett Valentine Winn

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