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Mom's poetry...GMA 1908 - 1984

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Mother dabbled in poetry throughout her life, and I did not know the extent of her work...or really have an appreciation for it. Fortunately some of her work was not tossed out in the trash and I am able to now appreciate it and feel like I am on an "adventure of discovery" with it.

...I can "imagine" that she was inspired to write this while attending some civic meeting where she was separated from Dad during a meal function. Just my guess...??

RESCUE

I was alone in a crowded room
Like a ship-wrecked mariner, lost
Among islands of tables, full-laden;
Adrift on a sea of faces;
Storm-tossed upon waves of laughter
Unheard above the din of voices
Blended with the clatter of silver against china
And the tinkle of ice against crystal
Until from across the room
Your eyes found mine
And rescued me
Giving anchorage
In the haven of your smile.

G.Mc.A., 1908 - 1984
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And another...


RENAISSANCE

Just as surely as the mysterious force
of a tender crocus bud
Can penetrate the frozen earth
And open wide its petals to the sun,
So shall the questing tendrils of my love entwine
And penetrate the icy shell of indifference
Encasing the sanctuary of your heart,
And wake a slumbering dream
To enfold in lasting beauty
Entwining your love with mine.

G.Mc.A., 1908 - 1984
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Those are lovely..thank you for sharing...
New Poem out

The Observer
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Here is another...according to a penciled note in margin, this was "unfinished junk" ... I kindly disagree with Mom on that comment!!

PINING FOR YOU

Shadows are falling at the close of day;
Night birds are calling from over the way;
Starlight is shining from Heaven so blue
While my heart is pining ... is pining for you.

Sweetheart, come back to me,
Don't stay away.
Tomorrow's sun will bring
Another day.
Give me a chance to prove
My love for you,
And cease my heart's pining ...
Its pining for you.

Winds whisper softly in treetops above;
Clear rippling streams murmur sweet words of love;
Nature is singing her love songs so true,
While my heart is pining ... is pining for you.

G.Mc.A. (probably written Feb. 1941 according to a penciled note in margin)
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It's funny/sad how often we come upon dateless photos and wonder about the people pictured. Especially if there is no caption or oral history. But a picture is just a brief glimpse of outer appearances. What you hold is a unique glimpse of your mom's inner thoughts and feelings. It's wonderful you appreciate it so much, and many of us here on this site do as well. Thanks for sharing.
“Play the sunset."
― Mr. Holland (played by Richard Dreyfuss) on "Mr. Holland's Opus"

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Mom obviously 'struggled' some with her writing. This was evidently written for a possible local radio program. I substituted "the reader" in next to last line after removing a person's name. I think it reads better anyway. Hope Mom approves of this minor change in her wording!!


RECOMPENSE

The song is there … we feel it,
Its music stirs our heart
But when we try to write it
The words are slow to start.

Our efforts fail to please us
The words are jumbled so.
It’s hard to put on paper
The music of the soul.

There is no continuity,
No cadre and no zest.
The music that so stirs us
Lies slumbering in our breast.

We try again to waken
These noble thoughts, and find
On taking pen and paper,
We write line after line.

We read aloud the content,
We scan each line and verse;
We count each beat and measure
But each time it just gets worse.

To us it seems so trivial,
Though we’ve done the best we can,
But when the reader reads them,
My, don’t they sound so grand!

G. Mc. A.
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HOMESTEAD

Follow today where we found our way along a
Winding graveled road and wooded mountain trail;
Revel in the beauty of that secluded spot
And feast your soul.
‘Twas not a Hermitage there we found,
Nor a hide - away,
But a cool and calm, quaint retreat
Serenely nestled far from the maddening
Throngs of a busy, bustling street;
Simple, yet as enduring as the memories
That haunt these rugged hills.
Love and life and laughter
These walls have known across the years,
With here and there a measure of sadness,
Shared burdens, heartaches, and a minglng
Of sorrow’s bitter tears
Balancing the picture of life making it completely whole.
Each day they took in stride,
Amply prepared to cope with any interference
Daring to mar their plans or bar their schemes.
With love and confidence and faith
They pledged their troth
To share each with each their dreams.
Thus walking hand in hand a man and bride found
This quiet spot made lovely by Nature’s lavish hand,
And working side by side they cleared this plot of ground.
Close by a rippling waters of a bubbling mountain spring
Together here they laid the stones
Whereon rested all their hopes and dreams.
Log upon rough-hewn log they built solidly and well
Upon a firm foundation as solid and secure
As the love they gave each other.
Stout hearts, strong hands and love enduring as these hills
Laid hearthstone, erected beams and fashioned these
Ancient sills
Worn smooth by time and tread of many feet
That found their way and crossed that threshold o’er,
As drawn by some magic lure
Enticing them to come that way, as indeed they were!
And though the miles be many between a journey’s beginning and its end,
The road is never long that leads to a door
Swung wide in welcome to all who come as friend to friend.

G.Mc.A.
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Quote by snoop
(Can someone help me with what she was saying with "quadre"...?? That is NOT a word and I'd like to make a correction there also. Please!!)


I would venture a guess that she meant cadre in the sense of framework. It fits with what she's saying in the verse.
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Quote by snoop
(Can someone help me with what she was saying with "quadre"...?? That is NOT a word and I'd like to make a correction there also. Please!!)


I would venture a guess that she meant cadre in the sense of framework. It fits with what she's saying in the verse.


THANK YOU...I hope Mom approves of this...lol!! ...can you (as a moderator) go in and make that change? Eliminate my question, etc.? I would really appreciate it.

Rick.
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There were three of us boys in the family over nearly an 18 year spread of time. I am the youngest. My older brother was a polio victim and I know that took a LOT of Mom's attention and time. We grew up on a farm, and Mom was truly the stay-at-home mother with raising 3 sons and house work, canning of fruits and vegetables, and seeing that things were always in order around the house. I do remember myself being ill with all the childhood illnesses (at one time, it seemed) and Dad doing a lot of looking after me so Mom could rest. With that in mind, I believe this poem was written reflecting her inner (and HAD TO BE tired!!) thoughts.


TO MY HUSBAND

I bless you dear, dear, for the roof o’er head
That shelters me from storm;
And bless you for the walls so strong
That keep me safe and warm.
I bless you for the many things
That make my day’s work light;
And for your strength and kindness
That comfort me at night.
I bless you for the sons you gave …
For providing all our needs;
And bless you, dear, for guiding them
In righteous ways and deeds.
I bless you for the sleepless hours
Spent soothing restless heads
Permitting my undisturbed rest
In warm, soft-pillowed bed.

I bless you, dear, for giving all
I’ve wanted most from life …
But bless you most for loving me
And making me your wife.

G.Mc.A.
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I WELL remember the pandemonium when Mom and Dad had "the (entire) family" there at one time!!

HURRY BACK

When we were young and newly married
We began to think in terms of three.
We didn’t want to be ‘just a couple’,
We wanted to be a family.
Soon our wishes were granted
As one by one they came …
Three little individuals,
Each as different as each name.

Years passed oh, so swiftly,
Three babes grew into boys, and then
Before we hardly knew it,
Three little boys turned into men.
Now our sons are the young marrieds
And have children of their own.
We have grandchildren like little stairsteps
As two by two they come.

Its quite exciting when they visit …
Saints preserve my silvered pate!
For of our three, two each have four,
And four plus four are eight.
Now eighty little fingers
Are ever busy, too,
So before they arrive I make a list
Of things that I must do:

Move the fancy doo-dads,
(The ones that mean so much to me)
Place them in the cabinet,
Turn the lock and hide the key.
Get out the plastic tumblers
For frequently they thirst,
And especially where there are children,
Always practice ‘safety first’.

Fill the cookie jar and cake-tins,
Stock up on peanut butter, jam and bread.
Keep the mending basket handy,
Stocked with needles, pins and thread.
Remember, too, that well-fed tummies
Are oft’ accompanied by sleepy heads,
So set up the crib and play-pen;
Put rubber sheets on all the beds.

When they are gone we view the wreckage …
Spills all over the kitchen floor,
Blobs of jelly on light switches,
Sticky knobs on every door.
Tattered magazines and papers,
Backless books and paper dolls;
Rumpled cushions, sagging curtains,
Little mud-tracks in the halls.

Bubble gum stuck on chair-seats;
Forgotten toys left on the stair.
Gathering up lost socks and mittens,
Grandma breathes a silent prayer …
Mopping, sweeping, straightening, cleaning
Smudges from the window-pane …
“Go, my dears, my heart goes with you,
But please, oh, please come soon again!”

G.Mc.A.
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I don't remember if I've said anything about an ongoing project, but I've been working on cleaning / sorting 'my corner' of the basement. Involved in that has been several detours off into other minor 'sub-projects'. For example, I got into my Mother's poetry and spend several days just reading and sorting and recording her work (typing) into my computer. A few of her poems are shown above.

Today...I started work on a file cabinet drawer of old civic organization records, programs, etc. I found ANOTHER short poem (I think it is funny) Mom wrote. My best guess is that she used this in some sort of humorous fashion at a meeting. She didn't have a title on this little piece, but I'm going to call it...

AN ODE TO A CLOTHES PIN

I think that I shall never see

A clothes pin looking good to me.

A pin whose biting mouth is pressed

Against a night shirt's dripping breast;

A pin that holds up in the breeze

A billowing pair of BVD's;

A pin that may in these days snare

Such scanty bits of underwear

And dries tea towels in endless flocks

And intimately lives with soggy socks.

Any fool may soil his duds

But those like me must toil in suds.

GMA 1908 - 1984
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Thanks for sharing Rick, you mum was truly gifted.
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What to Look for in a Hard Drive That You Are Purchasing?
When you are going to <a href="">buy laptop hard drive</a>, it is extremely important to look for one that is going to be fast and large enough to accommodate all of your files and data needs. It
<br>Yeah, it's just what I need, I'm about to have a new one
<br>I always use Dell Hard Disk Drives, what about you, guys?
<br>Gateway!!!lol
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Quote by snoop
Mother dabbled in poetry throughout her life, and I did not know the extent of her work...or really have an appreciation for it. Fortunately some of her work was not tossed out in the trash and I am able to now appreciate it and feel like I am on an "adventure of discovery" with it.

...I can "imagine" that she was inspired to write this while attending some civic meeting where she was separated from Dad during a meal function. Just my guess...??

RESCUE

I was alone in a crowded room
Like a ship-wrecked mariner, lost
Among islands of tables, full-laden;
Adrift on a sea of faces;
Storm-tossed upon waves of laughter
Unheard above the din of voices
Blended with the clatter of silver against china
And the tinkle of ice against crystal
Until from across the room
Your eyes found mine
And rescued me
Giving anchorage
In the haven of your smile.

G.Mc.A., 1908 - 1984



I sure felt a similar sentiment last evening as I was speaking at a meal function for a civic organization.
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Mother wrote her feelings / sentiments over a wide variety of topics. Here is one that applies to young love and maybe has a bit of sage advice too.

EMERGENCY REPAIR KIT

Don't be impatient, dear,
(Lord, she's so young and sweet.)
Hold fast to your heart while searching for love.
(Oh, don't let her be indiscreet)
A heart is too fragile to toss carelessly about
Glowing so shiny and new.
(Lord, why didn't you make young hearts more stout,
Or give every young girl two?)
Some day you'll find a lad, my dear,
Whom to all others you prefer,
And will give him your heart without reserve;
(Lord, let him be kind to her.)
But should he willfully break your heart
And toss it back to you,
Be prepared. Another lad's love
Is very good mending glue.

G.Mc.A., 1908 - 1984
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I found another poem my mom wrote that you might enjoy.

=============

HOLDING HANDS

I have the hand-holdingest husband
As anyone can see;
In just any old place at all,
He holds hands with me.

While walking in the country,
Or strolling in the park;
He doesn’t need to wait,
For stars and moonlight after dark.

Through summer’s sun,
In springtime’s rain,
Or sitting by the fire;
He seems to have one thing in mind.

In any kind of weather,
He holds my hand in his
As long as we’re together
That is our desire.

I hope when we get to that Promised Land
I pray we go together
We will enter Heaven’s portals
Still walking hand in hand.


G.Mc.A.
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thank you so much Rick. your mom was so very good, she wrote with her heart and soul,
She was truly gifted, and thank you for the gift of sharing them with us.
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I just this week had a real surprise that I wanted to share. My DAD wrote this in a letter to one of my brothers ... now deceased. I had NO IDEA that he would pen these words. He was a farmer and was also active in civic affairs. He also taught Sunday School for 38 years. This was written in Dad's near illegible left handed scrawl in one long paragraph. I took the title from the first few words and then arranged the rest in this poetic format. To my knowledge, this is the only thing of this nature ( writing of poems, etc.) he ever wrote.

I MUST REMEMBER

when I have planted my last grain of corn,

when I have set my last potato plant,

when I have harvested my last crop,

when I have attended my last meeting,

when I have sat in my church for the last time,

when I have kissed my wife for the last time,

when I have counseled my boys for the last time,

when I have hugged my grandchildren for the last time,

when I've prayed to my God for the last time,

when I have eaten my last meal,

when I have drawn my last breath,

when my heart will beat no more,

Then will I receive my reward from my Heavenly Father above,

Who as been so wonderful and good to me through the many years

I have been permitted to live on this Earth.

+=+=+=

B.L.A. 1905 / 1994
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Just saw this. Very good. Thank you Rick.
You can't get there from here, because when you get there you're still here and here is now there.
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Just saw this. Very good. Thank you Rick.


Thanks for reading, Roland. Dad had a lot more about him than many folk knew. This sure surprised me.
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Just saw this. Very good. Thank you Rick.


Thanks for reading, Roland. Dad had a lot more about him than many folk knew. This sure surprised me.
I've been reading this threadand I really enjoyed thewritings of your parents. It's great, that even people that are so close, can still surprise you with the beautiful things they created.
If life seems jolly rotten
there's something you've forgotten
and that's to laugh and smile and dance and sing

from Monty Python's "Life of Brian"
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I think this poem by my Mom is perhaps the finest piece of her poetry that I have. I've taken the liberty to title it from the opening words...

I HAVE NO QUARREL WITH LOVE

I have no quarrel with love because you shield your heart
And deafen your ears against an onslaught of endearing words softly spoken;
Nor wantonly expend your voice in whispered confidences,
Unable to return trusted loyalty …
Besieged by doubts and fears;
Not swift to pledge your heart’s constancy
Though moved to pitying tears.
It is well that you do
If you would know the essence of true love,
And, true to love, to yourself be true.
Yet I, having worshiped at your shrine
In quiet reverence across the years,
Await such time
When, reverberating on my listening ears,
I, and I alone, can hear
Your heart’s echo answering mine,
My dear ….. My very dear.

By G. Mc. Angell (1908 - 1984) Thank you, Mom, for leaving us your beautiful work that helps in the 'adventure of discovery' about who you really were and how you really felt. I love you, Mom
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This is a great thread. Your mum was very talented.
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Rick, your mother and father were memorable people that lived a life that we all wish we could live. They raised their boys with love and care and all the lessons of goodness, caring for others, and being strong men that was the American ideal. I know from what you have told me of them - and reading your mother's words - that you were blessed.
Please write some musings about them for us.
I already love them both.
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Quote by elizabethblack
Rick, your mother and father were memorable people that lived a life that we all wish we could live. They raised their boys with love and care and all the lessons of goodness, caring for others, and being strong men that was the American ideal. I know from what you have told me of them - and reading your mother's words - that you were blessed.
Please write some musings about them for us.
I already love them both.


You are very gracious and kind with your comment. I genuinely appreciate your words.
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Quote by LauraDanielle
This is a great thread. Your mum was very talented.


Thank you, Laura, for taking the time to read in this thread. My Mom would be pleased and honored as am I.
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What a lovely collection of beautiful treasures you have uncovered in these priceless tributes to your mom! The tenderness and love of her husband and three boys was just overwhelming! Then came her love for her grandchildren and life itself! Her outlook on life is something that we could all emulate and learn from! Thank you Rick for sharing your mother's intimate thoughts with all of us...Dani 💜