|July 29, 2004
This is an updated edition of a document that was originally done up June 28, 2000. I have added to this. There is at least one more poem on here. I am just finding things to fill the page with. If I find any more I will add them on here.
It all started when my cousin was passing around a poem at our family get together one December. A friend of hers wrote this poem and even though it was about the annual December festivities, at my grandmother's, we were all baffled by what the poem was trying to say. My cousin and my mother had me look at it thinking I could decipher it. (Robyn, the weird writer.)
When I could not fathom this poem my mind immediately remembered how I am not much of a poet. But wait, I am just not a "trained" poet. There are all kinds of poets. The best kind of poetry comes from the heart. Anyone who has written song lyrics has written a poem.
I do not know that much about meter and rhyme schemes, so I have a lot to learn. I have written poetry before but wasn’t too confident in my abilities.
On the way home from one family gathering, I wrote three poems just so I could say “I have written poetry”. Most English teachers would probably say that they need polishing. I think they are a good beginning.
The second poem is about the desire to see exciting places. I was a cashier, and when I rang up someone from an exotic locale, I would “wish I came from somewhere”. [Meaning, somewhere other than ordinary old "here".] One day a lady reminded me that I do come from somewhere.
Why Don’t I Come From...
The fourth poem was probably one of those “I can do better than that” things. “Better” is of course, is a matter of opinion. All I know is that I had to look at my audience. Who was going to be reading my poems? [At the time it was mainly my family] I wanted those people to be able to read and know what I was talking about. I used to write when I was in high school, and always had to explain [to people like my mother] what I was writing about. With this fourth poem, I wanted the participants of our December gatherings to have a piece of this event to hold on to. Maybe it was more for my own benefit, it is a way for me to “bottle” these times and experience them after they are over. I do not know if every poet cries over their work, but I cried as I wrote this poem.
I wrote this one when I got home from, the Christmas after my Grandmother died. It was part of my grieving process I guess. When we all get [got!] together at her house on Christmas eve it is [was!] customary for someone to read out of the Gospel of Luke. After that, spontaneously we break into singing Silent Night in English of course. The reason I put the German title for the song in the title of the poem is because I have some German heritage and I study some German off and on. It just sounded "different".
One year my mother sent me an audio cassette of the sounds of the family gathering. I was listening to it in January or February. I got so homesick when they started singing Silent Night, I started to cry. I was listening in the car as we went to get Douglas' grandmother from her work.
Holidays At Granny’s (My memories of Stille Nacht)
I was thinking about Granny again. This is another one that was part of my grieving process.
Lately I have been watching "Dogs With Jobs" on the "National Geographic Channel". It is like the program, "K-9 to 5" that was on "Animal Planet". They are programs about dogs that are working animals. I get in the mood to have a dog. I think it would help me exercise, because I would have to walk it. I just think I want a dog though. Douglas does NOT want a dog. They are much more of a hassle than cats are. I had a dream recently that we had the nicest big dog. It was all mine. It was so loveable and nice. But dreams are not reality. This dog in the dream did not mess on the floor or chew pillows.
This poem is about my dog desire which may never be fulfilled. As
much as I THINK I might want one, I am not getting a dog.
Mining Cheese On the Moon
Who knows, I might put more on here
The first poem in this list is a response to a billboard about the dangers of second hand smoke that we saw on the road. We both came from homes that had smokers. We had a laugh as we thought about the amount of money that we would get if we sued our parents. This poem is from that whole train of thought.
Our Second Hand Smoke
My husband, Douglas helped me with a line on the third poem. It has a Biblical theme. A friend of ours told me that when Jesus Christ returns and people who are born again start to disappear, people might, "explain it away" as alien abductions. Of course, I say hooey to all the alien stuff. This third poem is my reply to all the alien nonsense.
If I Ever Up And Disappear It Won’t Be Aliens That Take Me
This one was about my mother's sister and her sister in law. I have other aunts too and the good sentiments are passed on to them as well. I just happened to be thinking of the aunts on my mother's side of the family when I wrote this.
A Hug For Two Aunts
I wrote this one around the time I wrote "Favorite Words". I was thinking about childhood and that "jar of buttons" my Granny kept over (above) her sewing machine. She had a shelf above the sewing machine. I got her jar of buttons when she died. They had remodeled the house in 1974. That is when the "den" became the sewing room. Before that, her jar of buttons was kept in the hall closet where the linens were kept. I remember she would get empty spools of thread from a lady who worked in the alterations department of a store in town. Granny helped me make a "necklace" out of an old shoe string, buttons, and the empty spools of thread.
This is about how I progressed as a writer. I used to write in long hand on paper with a pen. I never thought I would get used to a typewriter. I got used to an electric typewriter ok. But the computer seemed like an impossible mystery. It wasn't until I realized that I used a computer every day as a cashier, that I figured I could maybe learn to use a computer. Here I am now using the computer very well. Don't ask me how it works though!
Pen vs. Typewriter vs. Computer