Wednesday, November 28, 2012

Ignoring The Call



Middle age is calling me,
But I just cannot go.
I have too much of childhood left,
So much that I don't know.
Why, I still love to color
And to play with paper dolls.
I still delight in bubble pipes
And bouncing rubber balls.
Ah, middle age is calling me,
But I just cannot go.
I still feel like a coed,
Full of life from head to toe.
Yes, middle age is calling me,
But my decision's made.
I'm just too young at heart to go.
Middle age'll have to wait!
© 2012 Sandra Conner

Anticipation


Coming and going,
To-ing and fro-ing,
Thoughts in a dither,
Stomach aquiver ...
Scurrying, worrying,
Phoning, conversing,
Weighing last doubts,
Last chance to bow out ...
Checking all pockets,
Fastening lockets,
Rosebuds and bouquets,
Fragrant, sublime haze ...
Guest in their places,
Smiles on the faces,
Music on swelling tide,
"Here Comes The Bride."











© 2012 Sandra Conner




Tuesday, November 6, 2012

Bored


a poem by Sandra Conner
I am bored ... so bored.
I need something else to do.
Wrack my brain ... the pain.
What will help? Don't have a clue.
Talk on phone ... endless drone.
Do my nails until they gleam.
Clean desk drawer ... fun chore:
Found lost candy and hand cream.
Still I'm bored ... so bored.
Without something else to try,
I'll have no choice ... guilty voice:
Must start my real work by and by.

Saturday, October 20, 2012

What's For Dinner?


a poem by Sandra Conner
To borrow an old "country" expression, I can say for sure that "it's coming on to my favorite time of year": Autumn in all it's radiant blue, gold, and russet glory, Thanksgiving just around the corner, and Christmas just far enough away to be able to spread out and savor every little moment of planning for the joys ahead. Now, being a writer, I have to express all that enjoyment in some literary way. However, there's SO MUCH enjoyment that, even though last week I wrote a Thanksgiving poem, I find that this week I have suddenly created another. I was sure you'd want to enjoy it with me.
WHAT'S FOR DINNER?
I spot him there, behind the barn,
A full-plumed, regal bird.
He looks up, straight into my eyes.
I speak no single word.
It's happened thus, in passing years --
At least for two or three:
Each mid-November I've set my mind;
He's been there to greet me.
Now, lifting his head in challenge strong,
He gobbles loud and long.
I lower my gun and heave a sigh:
To kill him would be wrong!
So, wrestling with my double mind,
I trek home to my wife
To explain why once again this year
Ham will greet the carving knife.

Sunday, October 14, 2012

Ah, Thanksgiving, How I Love You!


I absolutely refuse to celebrate Halloween, but I love Thanksgiving dearly.  Almost every Thanksgiving in my life has wonderful, love-filled memories, and I always start celebrating the holiday early.  So I'm beginning extra-early this year with this brand new poem.  I realize that this holiday tends to be primarily an American holiday, but many people around the world do take time during the harvest season to celebrate and be grateful for the year's bounty, so I hope it gives all of you a lift and a bit of extra joy for this time of year.
AH, THANKSGIVING, HOW I LOVE YOU!
a poem by Sandra Conner
Ah, Thanksgiving, how I love you!
Golden, crowning jewel of Fall.
Beacon of warmth and camaraderie,
Sending glad invitation to all:
"Gather to worship; gather to visit;
Gather to focus on all that's worthwhile;
Feast from tables resplendent with harvest;
Feast on the love in a touch and a smile."
All the year's labors weigh heavy upon us;
All the world's problems seem bigger by far.
But out from that wearisome struggle you call us,
And laying it down, we run to where you are.
And whether in cottages, mansions, or churches,
Community buildings or tables in parks,
We gather with gratitude full -- overflowing;
To the Giver of blessings lift voices and hearts.
Then we return to life's pattern awaiting.
Filled up with joy, we set off on our way,
Warmer and richer and kinder in spirit
For pausing to celebrate Thanksgiving Day. 
I hope each of you can celebrate this Thanksgiving Day with someone you love.
Photo courtesy of The Graphics Fairy: http://graphicsfairy.blogspot.com/

Monday, September 17, 2012

Now My Heart Must Sing

by Sandra Conner


I woke to face another day,
No glad expectancy,
For heavy disappointments were
Weighing down on me.

The day before had been so filled
With unsupportive words,
With problems piled four levels high,
And everywhere closed doors.

The friends I'd counted on were not;
They came and went like rain,
All so enwrapped in their own lives
They couldn't feel my pain.

It was just like so many days,
All running wearily,
So sad, with disappointments too,
All weighing down on me.

And though I knew I would survive,
That didn't soothe my heart,
For sorrow deep and troubles too
Brought a longing to depart.

But then to Jesus I did run;
I saw it in a dream:
I stood below a gentle hill,
All carpeted in green.

When I looked up and saw Him there,
He stood beneath a tree,
And waited, smiling patiently;
He'd been expecting me.

I ran but didn't feel the strain;
He grabbed me in His arms,
He wrapped them hard around me; held me
Strongly, safe and warm.

I'd never felt so light and free;
Engulfed with joy and rest;
No problem lingered to be weighed;
All I could feel was blessed.

And all the disappointments, though
So heavy they had been,
Took flight, and sadness too was gone,
Ev'ry conflict, ev'ry pain.

All threats and fears and torments sore,
All guilt, defeat, and shame –
In love so glowing and so strong,
All were dissolved away.

Then suddenly I saw a truth –
It caught me by surprise –
That Jesus' joy exceeded mine;
I saw it in His eyes.

I'd known He would accept me, that
He'd made a place for me,
But never had I even guessed
How happy He would be!

He was so thrilled to have me there,
He laughed so loud and strong,
That all things not of joy and life
Just vanished in joy's song.

And when I woke to this new day,
His laughter still did ring;
His arms still held me close and warm,
And now my heart must sing!

The Cycle


To work, to try, to learn
Is not a simple thing.
My teacher, though, thinks learning
Comes on swift, effortless wings.
I'm sure she never struggled
To get words to come out right.
Or understand their meanings;
Recognize them all on sight.
She's prejudiced against me;
Doesn't like me above half;
Just wants to cause me trouble;
Wishes I weren't in her class.”

“I know how Peter struggles.
I've heard him heave the sighs.
I've seen his eyes drift out to rest
On azure-colored skies.
He thinks I'm hard and unfair
When his homework's never done;
When I make him keep re-taking tests
Instead of having fun.
He doesn't know I struggled once –
Knew the failure and the shame.
Has no idea the reason I teach
Is to save him from the same.”

Thursday, September 13, 2012

The Heavens Declare



Behold the morning brings the message:
Jesus paid the total price.
And again at close of evening,
It is written in the sky.

Day to day with joy resounding,
Grace and mercy new supplied,
In the face of sin abounding,
All it's power at once denied.

Where the heavy heart and weary,
Shadowed by the awful curse,
Suffers pain and tumult daily,
Having life with God now lost,

There the sunrise, at day's birthing,
Spreads the scarlet of His blood,
And that same bold crimson bloodstain
Rules the sky at set of sun.

God proclaims the glad reminder
At the start and end of day:
Man can live with God forever;
With Christ's blood the price is paid.

© 1997 by Sandra Conner
Photo by R. L. Drieslein

The Writer Writes


by Sandra Conner


I think I'll write a poem …
Type, type, type …
Words, words, words …

'Twill have to be a story ...
Type, type, type ...
Words, words, words ...

No … I guess a novel …
Type, type, type …
Words, words, words …

A saga will be better …
Type, type, type …
Words, words, words …

A trilogy is called for …
Type, type, type …
Words, words, words …

My editor now reads it …
Delete, delete, delete …
Delete, delete, delete …

I have a two-line stanza.

© Sandra Conner




Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Longing For Them Now

by Sandra Conner


Bright flashes of blissful moments,
Fluttering pages of Christmas memories
Drifting through my mind.

Pages of memories of childhood beam
With living, expectant Christmas dreams.
Longing for them now.

Remembering how each page was able to ignite
My imagination, which brought each one to life.

Oh happy, happy days!
Bright daydreams and wishes,
Make-believing magic,
Found within the pages --
The Christmas catalogs.

© 2012 by Sandra Conner


Photo from Wishbookweb.com.  Visit the site
to check out nostalgic Christmas catalogs
that span 6 decades.





If I Could Reach The Face Of God

by Sandra Conner


If I could reach the face of God,

I'd plant a tender kiss.
I'd wrap my arms around His neck
In such a sweet embrace.


I'd whisper in His ear
The words of love my heart cannot contain.

Oh ...

If I could reach
To kiss the face of God.


© Sandra Conner
Well, I'll Be Blogged!
by Sandra Conner








I think I have a lot to say --

Too much to finish in one day.
If I record a daily log,
I'll have the skeleton of a total blog.

And if I flesh that skeleton out
And give it life, I have no doubt
Readers will gather round about
And greet each shining post with joyful shout.

I'll shock the timid, cheer the sad,
Enrage the liberal and made him mad,
And all I write, be it good or bad,
To cyberspace my own two cents will add.

©
2012 by Sandra Conner



Monday, September 10, 2012

Love On The Line

 I read about the "phone poem" challenge on "The Music In It" -- Adele Kenny's poetry blog -- and I decided to see what I could come up with.  As soon as I started thinking about the subject, I remembered reading the true story of a WWII sailor who had intended travelling to the midwest (while home on leave) to meet his girlfriend and propose marriage before he went back to duty.  A blizzard kept him from making it across the country, but through the kind ministrations of a romantic telephone operator (remember when we had real operators instead of computers?), he was able to convey his proposal and receive an answer.  This poem is based on that unique love story.

LOVE ON THE LINE

By Sandra Conner

I read about a Navy guy;
'Twas during World War II;
He felt that he was so in love
But one thing he could do.

He was on leave, New England way,
And running out of time,
Snowed in, he could not meet his love.
His only hope - a dime.

So in the pay-phone booth, he dialed
The zero. Faith was high.
He told his soulful story to
The operator, Vi.

He gave the name of his dear love,
St. Louis, her address,
And Vi said, “There's no promises,
But I will try my best.”

So hanging on the line out east
The sailor deeply sighed,
And waited with a pounding heart
Till he heard back from Vi.

“I have your party, sir,” she said,
Three minutes' worth of time,
“Three minutes!” cried the sailor,
“That isn't enough time!”

His darling's voice broke through the wire,
Her voice so light and thrilled,
“What great surprise, you're calling now.
I heard you're snowed in, Bill.”

“Yes, dear, and now I can't get there
Before my leave is through,
But there is something vital that
I have to say to you.

“You know I've loved you for a while;
And I have to know for sure --
But Vi broke in just then to say,
“We've lost connection, sir.”

“Oh, no!” he cried. “You've got to help!
I'm ready to propose!
I couldn't go back overseas
Unless I'm sure she knows!”

“I'll try again,” Vi said, but then
Back on the line, so sad,
“I just can't make connection, sir;
The weather is so bad.

“But I can hear your party, sir,
And it seems she can hear me.
If you'd want me to relay your words,
I'd do so happily.”

He heaved a sigh, wiped tear from eye,
And drew deep breath somehow.
“All right,” he said. “It'll have to do;
I need her answer now.”

Please say, “I'm so in love with you
That before I go to sea,
I'm asking you to be my wife;
Please say you'll marry me.”

So Vi relayed the message sweet;
He waited in a stew
'Till Vi came back online and said,
“She'd love to marry you!”

Now many years have come and gone,
The couple made their home,
And in every room the pride of place
Goes to the telephone.

©
2012 by Sandra Conner








Love's Freedom



by Sandra Conner


I turned to Love and said, “I must be free.”
And Love said, “Surely. Take your liberty.”

I asked, "In truth? You set me free to roam?"
Then Love replied, "Just please remember home."











And so I flew to north, south, east, and west.
And finally back to home I came to rest.

Then turned to Love and said, “You were so brave,
To let me try my wings. So much you gave.”

Love smiled and said, “Refusal to set you free
Would mean I loved, not you, but only me.”

©
Sandra Conner

Sunday, September 9, 2012

I Am A Raindrop
by Sandra Conner


I am a raindrop.
I'm looking for a place to plop.
I'm falling quickly and cannot stop.

I don't know where I'd like to be,
But I def'nitely don't want to land in the sea.

You see, if I were to land in the sea,
It would be so anti-climactic for me.

I would lose my personal identity;
Even I would no longer recognize me.

No, I must find someplace solid instead.
Perhaps on a daisy in a flower bed.

Or a plant so parched it's almost dead,
Or the page of a book that's being read.

I must decide as fast as I can.

I'm falling quickly toward some folks on the sand.

So many are out there just getting a tan.
Hello there, little bald-headed man.

His head sure was tempting, but then a breeze blew
And drove me off course; what am I to do?

Oh, I see it! I see it! My target's in view!
Get ready! Get ready! I'm landing on you!
Plop!

© 2011 Sandra Conner