Poetry Break: I Heard You

Change of pace here today mainly because I'm running out of time for today's blog post.

So I am going into the archives and posting a little bit of poetry.

The nice thing about poetry - it doesn't take long to read.

Here we go.

I Heard You
by Anna Maria Junus

I heard you,

Though the words never escaped your lips.

I heard you

through your eyes

 and the way you held your arms folded

tightly in front of you.

The flinches from touch,

The fist sized bruise on the small of your back

That I wasn't supposed to see,

And all the things you didn't say

when the rest of us joked about

the fights with our husbands and the latest things

they did to tick us off.

I heard you

And I did nothing.

It was easier to pretend.

Easier to smile and laugh

and not notice that your smile never quite reached

your eyes even though you were

the wittiest of all of us and always had the best

punchlines.

It seemed kinder not to intrude.

After all, if you wanted me to know

You would have told me.

Right?

He plays his part convincingly,

(So did you, by the way).

He stands there, holding your children's hands,

Wiping appropriate tears from his face,

While dirt is thrown upon you.

Comforting arms encircle him, and words

of love are murmured into his ear.

They never heard you.

But I heard you.

And this time,

I will not do nothing.

I got several suggestions for blog posts when I asked. One of them was cookies. I wrote about cookies a thousand years ago - give or take a few thousand. So here it is. You know I've got writers block when I resort to posting bad old poetry.

The Great Cookie Depression

My grandmother lives with us.

I love to hear the stories about her childhood.

You know, those old hardship stories

About those old days that were so good.

Anyways, she was telling me one of these stories.

It was late one rainy afternoon.

We were baking in the kitchen.

The smell of cookies and pine-sol filled the room.

Now I’d heard about the outhouse, and washing clothes by hand,

And chopping wood, and the big clincher one, you know,

The one about how she walked five miles to school each day,

Uphill each way

 And barefoot in the snow.

But that story she told that day brought home to me,

That her hardships were really real.

She said that when she was a child,

They had oatmeal cookies – with just oatmeal!

That’s right!  Just plain old oatmeal

With flour and sugar in them.

But nothing exciting,

Nothing you could really mention.

No walnuts, no peanuts, no almonds, no raisins,

No coconut, or chocolate chips,

No M&M’s.

Well I cried, “Life is so cruel!”

My tears conveyed how I did feel,

As I imagined my grandmother,

Eating oatmeal cookies with just oatmeal.

But that’s not the end of the story,

She had much more to say,

About The Great Cookie Depression

In those long ago days.

Chocolate chip cookies had no chocolate chips.

There were no coconut macaroons, not one.

No Oreos, or mallow bars,

She’d never heard of a fig newton.

(She thought it was the guy who sat under the tree and had an apple fall on his head)

Anyways, the picture she painted,

Well, that was pretty bleak,

And how much was real, how much was exaggeration,

I’ll leave up to you to think.

But as for me,

Well, it’s certainly changed the way that I feel,

And I can’t see a cookie, without thinking of my grandmother,

Who ate oatmeal cookies with just oatmeal.

T'was the Night Before Christmas

T'was the night before Christmas, when all through my dwelling,

All the creatures were stirring, and they were all yelling.

The stockings were hung, and then fell on the floor,

And there wasn't a chimney, just the front door.

 I nestled the children all snug in their beds,

After I threatened, to knock together their heads,

And I in pyjamas that I got last year,

Attempted to find some holiday cheer.

There were presents to wrap, and gifts still for making,

And I groaned at the lack of my holiday baking,

My tree didn't look like a Martha creation.

And my messy house was a whole other frustration.

I thought of the gifts that I couldn't get,

Due to no money and a little bad debt,

And I couldn't help feeling somewhat depressed,

That I couldn't give what they wanted best.

When out on the roof there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my couch to see what was the matter,

And suddenly there sprang through my front door,

That jolly old elf of ancient folk lore.

His eyes how they twinkled as they surveyed me,

And my sad little gifts and my still sadder tree,

And then I saw through that snowy white beard,

That a dazzling smile had slowly appeared.

"You forgot," he said, "the most important thing."

"You forgot," he said, "what makes your heart sing."

I looked at him puzzled. What did I forget?

Was there still one more thing that I had to do yet?

 "Come with me," he said, and held out his hand.

And instantly we were in a long ago land

I could see three men, travelling from afar

And their eyes were turned up to a bright shining star.

 And then in a flash, I saw shepherds gaze,

At a glorious figure with white light ablaze

It hovered above them and filled them with awe

And spoke words of peace, yet, there was more that I saw.

 We were in a warm stable, with animals around,

I could hear angels singing, a most wondrous sound.

I saw a young maiden, a woman most fair,

With a lovely complexion and long brown hair,

In her arms was a baby with a glowing face

And I felt overwhelmed in this most sacred of place,

And Santa, dear Santa held me quite near,

And whispered so softly in my trembling ear.

"You focused so much on the gifts that you got,

That you didn't remember the gifts that He brought."

My heart almost burst, and my tears overflowed.

And I knelt before that baby, born long ago. 

Then suddenly back home, in my modern day room,

Gone was the stable and gone was my gloom,

Gone was dear Santa, but under the tree,

He had left the most beautiful nativity,

I looked in my hand, and there the babe lay,

I set the figure down in the manger of hay,

And with joy in my heart, my chores quickly done,

I thought of the gift of the Father's Son

And then I turned out the Christmas tree lights,

And I checked on my kids, and kissed them goodnight.

And when I looked out at the starry winter sky,

I saw from his sleigh, Santa wave goodbye.

                                       

                                                - Anna Maria Junus