Poem: The Ones We Love

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The Ones We Love


The years have gone so quickly!
Unseeing - unaware-
we stood in our own ignorance,
blind to what was there.

Basking in the moment,
of love - security!
Not noticing the changes,
we now, so plainly see.

We thought because we loved them,
(and always let them know)
that fact would help in smoothing
the ways they chose to go.

They’re flung into life’s fickleness,
not tethered anymore.
Each day we see they’ve drifted
much farther than before.

We fight this helpless feeling...
( no longer can deny…)
that we can’t help them anymore,
no matter how we try.


June Kellum
August 6, 2006

Watery Wednesday ~ 10~27-'09 (and a poem)

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Go to link below to find other WW posts!

http://waterywednesday.blogspot.com/

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It's Watery Wednesday time again and for this time I'm doing a re-run of one of my earliest posts on my first blog!

http://juniesplace.blogspot.com/

Poem: Reflections

...This little poem - though, not correct in form- says a lot about the changes in our lives...





Reflections


These days I seldom witness
children lying in the grass,
gazing skyward, making figures of the clouds.

This is of the past!

Flowers of the meadow,
mostly, go un-noticed and un-picked.
Lost now, to the masses!
Replaced by games - hand-held-
of flickering figures, fighting, flickering figures!

What a trick!

Is summer still enticing,
with sprinklers slinging water in luscious swirls?
With children dressed in summer garb
to frolic, roll and tumble;

Was this another world?

Do families still take meals together,
with all TV screens and games shut down, momentarily?
Is there sharing of the happenings of the day, of one and all?
Sadly, I would have to say,

” No, not ordinarily!”


June Kellum
June 12, 2005



I remember spending lots of time, looking at the clouds and picking wildflowers, when I was a child!

The photo is of my own kids-Tammy, Tina and Chris- in mid 1960s-in Miami, Florida

Poem: Ginga's Lament

Ginga’s Lament


Remember the old days when our house
was the place they all wanted to be?
Where they never would run out of cookies,
where all were contented and free?
Where a nap could be taken - or not!
…And with so many things to explore!
Sadly, those days have bypassed us.
They’re, plainly, not here any more!
Wet slip ‘n’ slides in the summer…
with baby girl turned bowling pin,
knocked down ’accidentally’ by brother,
viewed on film, again and again!
Halloween parties and birthdays,
Easter egg hunts, by the score...
Football games and award days,
I miss them; it seems, more and more.
Remember the late nights of TV
with kids laying flat on the floor?
Thick quilts to cushion their slumber?
When did that stop, I implore?
And late nights of telling ghost stories,
of scaring each other and such.
The bonfires we had in the winter…
those things I am missing so much!
The golf cart rides in the pasture.
The reckless abandon of some…
crashing the cart into fences…
‘Accidentally’ having some fun.
Still, on holidays, we gather.
The grandkids are grown, don’t you see?
They’re all here… but things are so different.
The constants are just you and me!
Hugs are exchanged and ‘I LOVE YOUs!’
The rituals held close to our hearts.
But no one is asking for cookies.
And, oh, I am missing that part!
Whole summers were spent here together.
HERE was the first choice of all.
How did it all go so quickly?
When did our kingdom fall?


June Kellum (Ginga)
July 31, 2005

Poem: Deaf Girl's Tribute To The Birds

...for Mom and others in our family...




A Deaf Girl’s Tribute to the Birds


Because she can not hear your song,
your ‘Beauty’ is more profound!
She watches all your movements,
from tree tops to the ground!

Yet, only in her memory
is your sweet trilling, ringing-
from every bush and tree top-
the song she knows you’re singing!

Because she can not hear your song,
her eyes must compensate…
behold the wonder of you…
your beauty - celebrate!

And as she watches, joyously,
as near her you are winging-
she hears again, in memory,
the song she knows you’re singing!


June Kellum
1980s

Poem: The Long Motorcycle Ride

The Long Motorcycle Ride


The sky is blue
with piles of white and fluffy clouds,
as we travel in our semi-silent world.
Both lost in our own thoughts.
Do your thoughts wander too?
Are they in turmoil,
as are the clouds in such a whirl?
As we travel, with your back against my chest,
our bodies barely touching as we move…
the power of the motor is beneath us,
and holds us both as captives
and secure within this groove!
We travel, mile on silent mile,
with each our private thoughts to wander as they will;
with just the moving rhythm of the road…
calming, soothing yet so surreal.
And I wonder what you’re thinking…
what you feel.
Then … without a plan, and without
a conscious thought in mind I move to touch…
and find myself caressing your distant, silent face;
the one I’ve loved so very long, so much!
And it matters not
what roads we both have wandered,
or where our thoughts have lead us as they roam.
Our touching reconnects us-
and the love between us lingers and is rekindled-
as we make our way back home.


June Kellum
2004