Morning Musing · Poems

Day 55 Sum and Recap

Thursday, May 7, 2020

Day 55

I hear the swing squeak back and forth. I can feel the squeak vibrate the seat. I hear birds and cars. I feel the cool air creeping through my sleeves. I sip my warm coffee and hear the leaves flutter and gentle dings from the chime.

Sum and Recap

Thoughts and thinking and swinging porch swings,
Birds and sunshine and windchime sings,
Mugs and coffee with cream dreaming dreams,
Buds and flowers bloom beneath sunbeams.
Socks and boxes and little boy shoes,
Books and paper planes, other things too.
School and schoolbooks and more assignments,
Work and study, Did it make a dent?
Squirm and fidget, plus focus and try.
Sounds and letters and then cowboy’s pie.
Sweep and dishes so many more chores,
Stuff and clutter and landry galore.
Wash and repeat so sleep a good night,
Sun and the rise, a lovely first sight.
Once and again, new with no mistakes…
Yet. But mercies anew He does make.

Poems

Lonely Pillars

I wrote this in 2008 after listening to, “China’s Only Children Face Great Expectation,” a piece in a series about China’s culture on NPR. A tragic earthquake occurred that right about that time. Something about it hit me hard, probably because I am an only child, so I wrote something about it.

gray concrete post tunnel
Photo by James Wheeler on Pexels.com

Lonely Pillars

The earth has quaked and you pillars are crushed.
Death has taken you lonely pillars away.

Who will the heavy generation build their legacy on?
Who will build the next?

Whose strength will steady your parents in their old age?
Who will bear their memory, wisdom, and hopes?

What brother will stand in the rubble looking for you?
What sister will carry your memory with her?

Walls of nieces and nephews? They were never built.
And few and falling away are the remnants of your cousins.

The lonely bruised pillars that remain may mourn you,
But your architects did not pour into them as they did you.

The standing pillars do not share part of you and you with them.
You share only your loneliness.

I weep for you lost lonely pillars,
For I am an Only as you.

 

Copyright 2008 J. A. Goggans

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Poems

Summer Update

grayscale photo of person pulling up woman using rope
Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com

Which Turn Is It?


I feel pulled, pulled in every direction,

A little here, a little there but no North Star,

Transcendent lost in the Summer sunshine, sweaty days, and new beginnings,

I feel pulled, pulled in every direction,

How does one schedule the chaos into free time?

The wind blows, tumble weeds roll, and the days change; yet every day is the same,

I feel pulled, pulled in every direction,

Turn, Turn, Turn there is a season; which Turn is it?

Can I take captive the time, time to Turn chaos into peace and purpose?

But I feel pulled, pulled in every direction.

 

 

Copyright 2019 J. A. Goggans

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A special thanks to the Byrds for this song I’ve loved for many summers each with their own varying Turns.

 

 

Poems

Lego Life

Legos, Legos in close and safe spaces,
Legos, Legos in all the wild places,

Legos, Legos everywhere Legos,
I find bricks to figs, to arrows and bows,

Deep in the grass of the front and back yard,
Mini figs stand watching on guard,

In the washer Legos floating I find,
In the dryer clinking I shrug resigned

In little boy pockets and in little boy clothes,
Are the Lego spots everyone knows,

There is of course the place most obvious,
Because of children’s sloppiness,

My feet find Lego blocks on the floor,
And no matter what they always find more,

Then one day it really got weird,
And it was far worse than ever I feared,

When I sleepily looked down to see,
A Lego in the bottom of my morning coffee!

But that wasn’t the strangest,
Oh, how could I have guessed,

After a day of Lego Convention fun,
We made a Krystal fast food run,

Beneath my burger, in my Krystal box low,
I found a purple Lego cross bow.

Copyright 2019 J. A. Goggans

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Poems

Little Kid Hair Cuts

art art materials color colored pens
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Sit right here, in this high chair,

I need to cut your girl or guy hair,

Yes, boy, yes girl, it is quite fair,

For you to sit still and only stare,

I promise I do this because I care,

I’ve cut myself, so don’t you glare,

Believe me, these scissors are better than Nair,

I must say three good kid cuts are quite rare!

Copyright J.A. Goggans 2011

Poems

Sleepless Limerick

An ordinary joe must be a hottie
Not found in a new fangled Shoppee
Regular not lofty, creamy not toffee
I love a wonderful cup of coffee.

selective focus photography of white ceramic teacup
Photo by Dids on Pexels.com

 

Copyright 2019 J. A. Goggans

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Poems

I Wonder, “Why?”

brown book page
Bookmark

 

 July 5, 2013

Sometimes I realize that I’m sad, so sad.

And I wonder, “Why?”

 

I feel like someone died,

Like someone is gone,

Like they are never coming back.

 

And I wonder, “Why?”

 

Like finding a book mark in the middle of a book, not at the end, just as they marked it.

Like finding an old present still wrapped, not given, inside is still as they placed it.

Like grief-mingled-joy has surprised me.

 

And I wonder, “Why?”

 

I feel the joy of the gift but,

Grief at the thought of opening it,

Grief that can’t be comforted by opening or leaving it.

 

And I wonder…

Who died?

And then I wonder….

Is it me?

 

And I wonder, “Why?”

 

Then grief suddenly overwhelms me,

Like it is brand new grief but,

Like it has the power of aged grief.

 

And I wonder, “Why?”

 

 

Copyright 2015 J. A. Goggans

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