Poetry
By Eurdis Nail Greer
Omniscience
I went to Your house today;
It was Mother's Day.
I sat on a pew with my aged mother
and my not-so-aged grandson.
My daughter sat beside me;
Her mind intent on the speaker,
Her eyes intent on her son, not that he noticed.
I'll confess, I didn't hear much that was said,
But I think you would approve of what my spirit felt.
I don't remember the exact words of the prayer,
But I remember a wide-eyed look of innocence
and the feel of a little hand slipping into mine.
It was a day I'll never forget.
You knew it would be, didn't You?
Dear Lord,
There's no use trying to figure out why that snake bit my grandson. Already I've heard a thousand reasons...each one the authority on it. Those who couldn't think of a reason, put it on You.
I just want to thank you for getting him well, for keeping him from being too sick. We could tell it was a bad one from the marks on his arms and all that swelling. He said to thank you for him, too. Right now, he thinks he may never swim in Strong River again. At first, his mama wanted to drain it dry and kill every snake there, but that's because she was scared and worried. She knows now there was a reason.
There's always a reason.
I don't know what it was.
I just know it tendered my heart towards him a little more.
It tendered my heart towards You, too.
Hi-ho Silver
He whispered in the pony's ear
and calmed the nervous beast.
He slid into the saddle
with a cowboy's practiced ease.
He spurred his mount, then shouted "Whoa!",
his countenance chagrined.
He leaned his body to the side and
slipped a quarter in.
A Grandma’s Wish
I have a little grandson-(at least I think I do.)
He has the biggest, brightest eyes-
(I guess they are still blue.)
He uses big important words-
By now he knows some more.
(I know I'd like to see him
running up to my front door!)
I guess his blond hair still is straight
And needs a little trim.
I guess by now that space filled up
Where that first tooth had been.
And those long jeans that dragged the floor
Are way past ankle high-
(I wish I could pick up the phone
and talk to him awhile.)
I see him in his desk at school,
Back straight, head held high.
I see him rise to say the pledge,
That twinkle in his eye.
I see him reading, writing, studying each day,
(I also picture him at recess-first one out to play.)
I wish that I could be the one
To meet his bus each day
Give him milk and cookies
Watch him wile his time away.
(I wish my grandson lived next door
and not so far away.)
Future Stars
Some are short
Some are tall
Some you hardly see at all.
Wide-legged shorts on knobby limbs,
Long-tailed shirts for "Her and Him",
Wet cowlicks and ponytails
Decorate these boys and girls.
Anxious parents-one and all-
Come to watch their kids play ball.
Mother of Three
A mother I am, a mother of three.
A mother of sons I was not meant to be.
I prayed for a son "for my husband," I said.
"I'll take any kind-even hair that is red,
or no hair at all will be all right with me."
But a mother of sons I was not meant to be.
I made frilly dresses for three little girls,
Made Easter bonnets to cover their curls,
And gave up my dreams for a son finally.
A mother of sons I was not meant to be.
I made wedding dresses for three grown-up girls,
Made satin bonnets to hold wedding veils.
God answers prayers in his own way, you see,
And soon gave me grandsons, not one, but three!
A mother of sons was not meant for me.
A mother of grandsons, He meant me to be.
Before He Came
Before he came...
the pond stood still, the kittens played
on my windowsill,
the doors stayed shut, the lamps burned low,
But that was some light years ago
... before he came.
Before he came the grass grew high,
the dog just moped and so did I.
There were no fries or chocolate pie
... before he came.
Before he came the stars were small,
and sleep o'er took the whippoorwill's call.
The fireflies' light seemed dim at night
... before he came.
Before he came...
the ball stayed lost and I forgot
what candy cost.
The ping pong table lay in dust,
Horseshoes hung on nails to rust;
And I forgot what made me cuss
...before he came.
Remembering
I walked around where yesterday
the feet of children loudly played,
and traipsed through moss and violets
while fishing to their heart's content.
The grapevine's hanging quietly now-
where yesterday it felt the power
of tireless hands and Tarzan yells,
that split the heavens, for a spell.
Leftover bait,
an empty stump,
the first-aid kit for itchy bumps,
some fishing line still lying there
from yesterday's entangled hair,
discarded bandaid a hero wore,
dried up sandwich,
an apple core...
All tell the tale of yesterday
when my grandchildren came to play.
For Nic
Another day has come and gone,
The house is quiet once more.
Morning sun reveals the smudges
Sticky hands left on the door.
Pots and pans are rearranged
Dragged from beneath a chair;
A disassembled five piece band
With wooden spoon still lying there.
Water streaks on cabinet doors
And scuff marks on the floor,
Prove a grandson helped his Granny
Do the dishes and the chores.
Even cat and dog seem lost,
No one to throw a stick
Or scream when chased around the yard
And given cold wet licks.
"Let's walk just once more in the woods"
Still ringing in my ear, and
"It's not raining very hard
And we might see the 'nuther deer!"
One more time I've read the book
he didn't even hear,
and once more tied the tennis shoes
he didn't want to wear.
Ten times ten I know I answered
all his endless "Whys?"
and one more time I cried
as little hands waved me goodbye.
Where There No Children
Who cares to clean an unused room?
Why, there's no need to lift a broom.
Last month's dust still lying there, And who's to care?
The stove's been cold a long, long time.
No need to cook for one to dine and throw leftovers out the door to pets, who beg for more.
I'd have no need to work so hard to mend that fence in my backyard for kids and dogs to roam...
Were There No Children
coming home.
One More Thing, Lord
It's me again, Lord Jesus,
Making one more final plea,
About that new grandbaby
Who's just about to be.
Let him be real healthy,
I beg on bended knee.
I need someone to walk the woods
and spend some time with me.
There's stories to be read to him
Before my eyesight goes;
There's logs to walk and streams to cross
and lots of rocks to throw.
Then one more thing I'd like to ask,
If You'll permit me to,
I'd like to hang around to help
Him grow to be like You.