Little Red Sneakers (A Poem and reblog)

I am posting this yet again, as I see people still look this one up now and again. Enjoy!!!

Here is a poem from my journal that was written 6/21/93.  It is about my children and wanting never to forget all the special memories of their childhood. The red sneakers were Patrick’s, and they were little  canvas high tops-so cute!  (He had several different pairs, and I even saved a pair of velcro cuties!)

This poem is titled:

LITTLE RED SNEAKERS

I want to remember,

Little red sneakers, sandboxes and swings,

and all the little childhood things.

Little Red Sneakers 🙂 (Yes, I saved them)

Joyful laughter-wiping tears, I want to remember through the years.

Ice cream, lollipops and licorice,too,

Wagons and bicycles-a stroller for two.

Christmases and birthdays, when everyone’s over,

Ernie and Bert, Oscar and Grover.

Bathing suits and summer fun, a kiss and hug for everyone.

Carousels and pony rides, cookouts and climbing slides.

A wading pool, chock-full of toys,

Climbing trees is for little boys!

Scampering feet on wooden floors,

Singing kid songs behind closed doors.

Christopher Robin and Winnie The Pooh,

Owl, Eeyore, Kanga and Roo.

Reading books on Mommy’s lap,

Patrick

“Come on now kids, it’s time for your nap!”

Cookies and milk before going to bed.

Stroking blonde hair on a tired boys head.

The kiss and the hug,  the ” I  Love You!” before sleeping,

Lies deep within my heart, worth keeping.

These things I want to remember with pleasure.

Worth more than gold,

It’s a mother’s treasure!

The End

The Goblins Will Get Ya If Ya Don’t Watch Out! A Poem For Halloween!

Hello all!

I decided I’d post something fun.  Here is another poem my mother would read to us when we were small, and we loved it!  I can still hear her voice as she raised and lowered her voice to fit the parts.  It was funny,but scary.  And of course, I would read it to my children, with much enthusiasm.  It’s the only way.  You’ll see what I mean when you read it.  So Enjoy and share this one.  But remember…be good!

This is by James Whitcomb Riley:

To all the little children: — The happy ones; and sad ones;The sober and the silent ones; the boisterous and glad ones; The good ones — Yes, the good ones, too; and all the lovely bad ones.

Little Orphant Annie
by
James Whitcomb Riley

Little Orphan Annie’s come to my house to stay.
To wash the cups and saucers up and brush the crumbs away.

To shoo the chickens from the porch and dust the hearth and sweep,

and make the fire and bake the bread to earn her board and keep.

While all us other children, when the supper things is done,

we sit around the kitchen fire and has the mostest fun,

a listening to the witch tales that Annie tells about

and the goblins will get ya if ya don’t watch out!

Once there was a little boy who wouldn’t say his prayers,

and when he went to bed at night away up stairs,

his mammy heard him holler and his daddy heard him bawl,

and when they turned the covers down, he wasn’t there at all!

They searched him in the attic room and cubby hole and press

and even up the chimney flu and every wheres, I guess,

but all they ever found of him was just his pants and round-abouts

and the goblins will get ya if ya don’t watch out!!Once there was a little girl who always laughed and grinned

and made fun of everyone, of all her blood and kin,

and once when there was company and old folks was there,

she mocked them and she shocked them and said, she didn’t care.

And just as she turned on her heels to go and run and hide,

there was two great big black things a standing by her side.

They snatched her through the ceiling fore she knew what shes about,

and the goblins will get ya if ya don’t watch out!!

When the night is dark and scary, and the moon is full

and creatures are a flying and the wind goes Whoooooooooo,

you better mind your parents and your teachers fond and dear,

and cherish them that loves ya, and dry the orphans tears

and help the poor and needy ones that cluster all about,

or the goblins will get ya if ya don’t watch out!!!

This Scares Me, Too!

I Wish John-Boy Walton Was My Older Brother

I don’t know what it is about the Walton’s tv show, but to this day, when I watch the show, I am oblivious to anything going on around me.  The only thing that startles me to reality (unfortunately) is the commercials!  I loved the show in the 70’s when family shows were all the rage, and I wish they still were.  TV shows today are so outrageous that I can’t even compare them to the more meaningful ones from the 70’s.  I mean, I know they all weren’t the best, but at least we had something!

When I watch the Walton’s today, a  strange sense of calm comes over me.  A feeling of being less stressed in a simpler time.

Almost the way I felt growing up in the 60’s and 70’s, before technology went crazy. I liked coming home from school and relaxing before doing homework, leaving the stresses of the day behind me and not having to see my classmates until the next day.  Not with facebook!  It’s in front of you 24/7.  That would have driven me insane.  And the bullies that harassed me by day, I’m sure would have found me on facebook.  No thank you!  I  also loved my “one and only”  rotary phone, to “TALK” to someone…not text or e-mail and  somehow try to figure out if the words in the text were meant to be sarcastic or mean in any way.  We worked out many problems and disagreements over the phone! OOOps, I’m sorry, I’m getting off the subject…I wanted to talk about John-Boy Walton…my hero.

Like I said, I loved watching the Walton’s and how they solved their own family problems, ate together at mealtimes with Grandma and Grandpa, and even took in strangers with difficult hardships  and fixed their problems, too. They just took life as it came with all it’s different experiences and learned from them, together.  Always together. It sounds silly, but I always came away from  the show feeling satisfied, like I could survive the next day’s troubles  all because of how I felt inside after watching the show for an hour.

Now, I  do have an older sister and our relationship reminded me so much of the relationship between Mary-Ellen  and Erin. The little spats and also the sisterly love.  I  also have 3 younger brothers, but I had always wished for an older brother. An older brother who would protect me from the cold, harsh world and show me right from wrong, without getting mom or dad involved. Someone I could go to for all kinds of advice and know that he would always be there for me if things didn’t quite go my way.  I’m sure he would’ve somehow made me feel like the sun would surely shine again in the morning.  It would all be okay.  And yes, he would’ve been a writer and write poems and share them with me. Poems about love and romance and life in general.  Of course, I would appreciate that, because I am an artist and write poetry, too. Yes, that was John-Boy.

Ahhh…it is nice to dream…

But I have always loved John-Boy, or Richard Thomas, since he played the part, and I think he would think it was funny  that there is still women out there that have secretly admired him all these years.  He  just looks like he is a very nice person to get to know.  I never read anything bad about him.  He just looks like a pleasant, very nice person.

Flashback:   One day on our Honeymoon in Washington DC ( in 1985 ), my husband and I were at this very nice restaurant.  As we were eating, my husband told me that Richard Thomas had just walked in.  I did not believe him! But it was him!!! He and another actor were starring on a stage production nearby and they were eating out together.  He was only tables away from me!!!Oh my God!  I’m thinking….autograph..no… he will think I am stupid…no.  I really would have loved to go over to him and tell him how much I loved his work, but I probably would have drooled instead, so nevermind.  I still remember what he was wearing and how he just strolled in like he was my next door neighbor.  Unbelievable.

Anyway, that’s my story.  Now you know my secret crush, oh well.  I’ve held it in for so long, it just had to come out someday.

So if you ever happen to see Richard Thomas in your travels, let me know,and see if you can’t get that extra autograph for me, ok???  🙂

Goodnight John-Boy!

John-Boy

Richard Thomas

Little Red Sneakers (via Cherylmcnulty’s Blog)

I know I’ve reblogged this before, but I think it is a great poem and many people enjoyed this last time. Here’s one for all the moms that “want to remember” and know that special times with little ones never really last for very long. Thank God for memories! Enjoy!

    Here is a poem from my journal that was written 6/21/93.  It is about my children and wanting never to forget all the special memories of their childhood. The … Read More

via Cherylmcnulty’s Blog

The Dream

I wrote this just recently as I started a new job and seemed I would never get back to my drawing again.  I get depressed and sullen when I can’t get back to the drawing board and express my emotions in art.  It’s just a part of me.

The other day, I just started thinking how long I have been at this and trying to become published on cards or flags…anything. To have a company decide to say “yes, we’ll try this”, instead of all the rejections.  More than 25 years I have been doing this.  And so , I decided to write this poem about someone who had to finally give up the dream, and say goodbye.  When you are an artist at heart, you can never truly say goodbye to the dream, but this is what it felt like to me. And yes, I cried.  And I can’t say I will truly ever give up.  Here is the poem:

The Dream

*I’ve come to say goodbye.

Although I will think of you often,  I have to grow up now and think of other things.

It was nice to think about you, though,

giving me the hope that I had something more to offer in my lifetime, so I wouldn’t feel so dead inside.

I guess it was just all a fallacy,

thinking I could somehow be another Mary Engelbreit,

living a life full of creativity and art and making a difference in the world.

You will forever be on my mind, but I will try hard to forget you.

It is just too painful.

I will now be too busy and  have other things to worry about,

like schedules, appointments and the daily rush.

So see, it won’t be so hard to forget you.

But you will always be a part of me and I know the memory of you will come out in random times of quietness and solitude.

I will think about how you made me feel alive, young, energetic and full of hope,

possibly changing the way the world thinks-

but I guess it wasn’t meant to be, you and I.

I’m so sorry.

Maybe I never really gave you the full attention and dedication,

even the time to our relationship, so you could grow the way you should have.

But life happens and things get put on hold and we fall back,

and I’m just too tired now to start over again and deal with the rejections

and trying to find someone to bring this all together.

So goodbye dream.  Goodbye for now.

I’m grateful you came into my life when you did.

Maybe someday, after I’m gone, they will find pieces of you and me and our lives together

and what could’ve been, and somehow put us back together.

And maybe then they will see our relationship wasn’t “all for nothing”.

Then maybe, just maybe, something we created together will be revealed… and possibly…

… stir up a memory

…reinforce a thought

…change an attitude

…make a difference.

I just wont be here to see it… and that’s okay.

And so, Dream, you won’t just shrivel up and die,

you will live on…

like you were intended to do all along. 🙂

Cheryl<3

It’s So Hard

Yet another journal entry on when my mom and dad got sick (the 1990’s) and with their passing, how I dealt with all the pain.  As I write this now, I can remember the feelings I had when I wrote this, like it was yesterday.

This is titled, “It’s So Hard”

It was hard when Mom got sick…the medicines,the doctors, the chemotherapy, the tiredness.

It was hard when Mom died…the last day,the funeral, the getting rid of clothes.

It was hard when Dad got sick…the confusion,the forgetting,the oxygen,the pills, the preparing.

It was hard when Dad died…the closure, the silence,the empty house.

It was hard when we had to sell the house where they lived for 30 years…the yard sale,the dividing of goods, the stress.

It was hard having a yard sale to sell all the little things that we thought didn’t matter.  We had to choose pieces of Mom and Dad scattered everywhere.

It was hard to close the door to the house for the last time.  Their spirits were there and I knew it.  I could feel them every time I visited…in plants, in books and music, in sweaters and caps and pieces of furniture.

The coffeepot my dad used everyday.  The decorations…everything…gone.

It was hard to leave the house on that last day.

I stood at the doorway and I whispered into the empty air, ” I’ll miss you, Mom and Dad.  I love you. Please be with me, not here anymore.  Goodbye!”

Then I took one last look and drew in a long breath, then closed and locked the door.

And as I backed my car out of the driveway, I passed Dad’s azaleas, morning glories and lush,green grass.

I knew this would be the last time, so I didn’t dare watch as I drove past the house.  Hold the tears back!

Oh, it’s so hard!

Close the door to the past, and press on into the future.  I remember the saying, “Bury the dead and live.”  It’s so easy to say, but hard to achieve.

I can only hope their spirits are not held prisoner at that house, but with us- their children, and in their belongings we got to keep for memories sake…

In the wicker furniture that was theirs…on my deck.

In their telephone stand… in my hallway.

In their hope chest…in my bedroom…

and in the aging, yellowing pictures in my albums.

They are with us now in spirit and I try to imagine them smiling and watching over us everyday now…

but it’s so hard.

A Poem About “Young Love”

Okay, I’m just going to throw this one out there. This is a poem I wrote when I was dating my husband. He lived a distance away when we were first dating and so I didn’t really see him much, except for weekends.

You know the feeling you have when you’ve just started dating the person, and can’t seem to get them out of your mind?  Just call it “young love”.

Anyway, all embarrassment aside, here is a poem titled “If I’m Dreaming”. Written January 9,1982 (wow!).

          If I’m Dreaming

If I’m dreaming please don’t wake me

I want this to last forever

and I don’t think that I could ever

bear the thought you’re just a dream.

I keep on thinking, what if someday

as we’re together growing older

someone just taps me on the shoulder

and it all just fades away.

Or we may be kissing on my doorstep

when a voice is heard behind me

and as I turn to look , I’ll find me

back in my room and all alone.

Or you could be lying close beside me

and as you wrap your arms around me

an empty blanket I’ll find surrounds me

when I open up my eyes.

I don’t want to go on thinking

that someday I’ll soon awaken

and find my heart has just been taken

on a never-ending ride.

We have something much too special

to have it last for just one nighttime

a love like ours should last a lifetime

not for just an hours sleep.

So if I find that I’m just dreaming

I’ll pray the Lord to sleep forever

so that I won’t have to ever

be without you by my side. 🙂

Well, there it is.  Hope you enjoyed this and maybe somehow relate.:)

I Cried For You

Here is another journal entry I found, and of course it is about my mother.  She passed away at  age 54 of cancer in 1993.  It seems I  did a lot of writing so I could deal with all the sadness. I must say, it did help.

This is about memories I had of my mother,  and the changes  she went through as a person through the years that I knew her. 

This is titled “I Cried For You”

*I cried for you again, tonight.

I cried for times past.  The you I remembered from my childhood, sending us off to school, baths on Sundays, the  bedtime stories  from Winnie- the- Pooh and Raggedy Ann.  The summer walks, calling us in from the back door for supper, or when we stayed out late and the street lights came on. For the birthdays and Christmas.

I cried for the you I remembered from my teen years:

The beach lover and the sunbather.  The more independent you- working and going to school for nursing, learning to drive, the friend, and the conversationalist. The artist and painter,and of course, for birthdays and Christmas.

I cried for the you I remembered as I grew into adulthood:

The very, independent woman,the nurse, the advisor, the photographer, gift-giver and lover of people.  The writer and poet, the reader and lover of movies, music and anything country.  The traveler, the santa collector……the sick woman, the disease, the hospital stays and surgeries.  The scared woman, but the strong woman. 

Always a smile and a giggle.  Always ready to share.

I cried for you and the time you had left.  The times I knew you’d miss. The grandchildren you’d never get to see grow older, even graduate.

All the little trinkets and gifts  I knew we’d never receive anymore.

Yes, I cried for you, again-

I still do,

I still will…

and I’ll forever cry for birthdays and Christmas, without you!  

🙂

Abandoned

 

My mom with us in the 60's-I'm on the right

 

Here is another journal entry I wrote after my mother passed away. This was written because of the depressing feeling I had when my sister and I had to get rid of my mother’s things in her closet one day.  My father could not bear to do it.  This was very hard, and it is something that has to be done, but no one really ever talks about it. To me, it felt like I was wiping out the rest of an existence. So sad.

This is titled  “Abandoned”

Your clothes are still hanging in your closet, untouched, just as you left them.

Worn on trips, to restaurants or just everyday.

They’re just  hanging in the darkness, until they’re put away.

Sweatshirts with names of places visited,

With bright colors , or cute  animals and unique designs, that all say something about you.

Your evening dress up shoes and  assorted flats are strewn about the closet floor.

Waiting to see another day of summer sun, the beach perhaps, or just a walk – but no more.

The quilted bag you proudly carried around with you everywhere, containing all your treasures and trinkets…your valued photo album…

It’s just lying there empty on a chair.

Poetry books sit on dusty shelves waiting to be read again.

The music you loved so much- the many tape cassettes, are all in piles where you left them in a cupboard.

They were once played to visitors who walked in the door to greet you, but will never be played as they used to…anymore.

Your  Santa collection sits in the attic now…collecting dust.

The pretty cat waits for your gentle touch, your comfortable lap.

His eyes seem to ask, “What’s wrong?”

The many poems that won’t be written. The stories that won’t be read to a grandchild. 

The birthdays and special days that won’t be shared.

No more little gifts from you that say, “I love you” or “I’m thinking of you”.

How I wishI could hear your voice on the phone again, late at night, after a visit with you.

“Just wanted to know if you made it home, alright. Love you, too!  Goodnight!”

Oh, well…

Everything you owned says something about you, but now they all seem so lost – abandoned somehow – even us.

Now all these things have a secure place in my memory… and my heart… and on this paper,

To stay forever,

Never to be abandoned ,again!  🙂

Little Red Sneakers

 

Patrick (about 1992) with sock puppet on hand, in his little red sneakers

 

My kids- Kelsey, Patrick and Caitlin (about 1998)

 

Here is a poem from my journal that was written 6/21/93.  It is about my children and wanting never to forget all the special memories of their childhood. The red sneakers were Patrick’s, and they were little  canvas high tops-so cute!

This poem is titled:  Little Red Sneakers

*I want to remember,

Little red sneakers, sandboxes and swings,

and all the little childhood things.

Joyful laughter-wiping tears, I want to remember through the years.

Ice cream, lollipops and licorice,too,

Wagons and bicycles-a stroller for two.

Christmases and birthdays, when everyone’s over,

Ernie and Bert, Oscar and Grover.

Bathing suits and summer fun, a kiss and hug for everyone.

Carousels and pony rides, cookouts and climbing slides.

A wading pool, chock-full of toys,

Climbing trees is for little boys!

Scampering feet on wooden floors,

Singing kid songs behind closed doors.

Christopher Robin and Winnie The Pooh,

Owl, Eeyore, Kanga and Roo.

Reading books on Mommy’s lap,

“Come on now kids, it’s time for your nap!”

Cookies and milk before going to bed.

Stroking blonde hair on a tired boys head.

The kiss and the hug,  the ” I  Love You!” before sleeping,

Lies deep within my heart, worth keeping.

These things I want to remember with pleasure.

Worth more than gold,

It’s a mother’s treasure!

The End

🙂