Tears For Dad (a post Father’s Day poem)

PawPaw93I didn’t want to say goodbye
I would gladly have spent more sleepless nights at your bedside;
I know, quite selfish of me to hold on so,
But you were my best friend.
I wanted more time with you
I wanted you to tell me more of how life was when you were young.
With you I was able to live through decades I had never seen,
I could listen to you and imagine life simpler, maybe
without as much chaos and stress as I sometimes feel.

You were my connection to family members I never knew,
those family relationships of which death had robbed me;
When you recounted exchanges with your dad and your mother,
and when you remembered times with your older sisters and brothers;
suddenly those old gray-scale photographs were full of color
and I could see smiles in expressionless faces.

But, no more now; I must content myself
with my own memories that are beginning to fade;
you are yet alive there.
And now I feel such a need
to somehow immortalize you in my words;
foolish me,
I know you’ve already done that by your love to so many;
Yet, how will my little offspring know what a wonderful person you were,
I must no longer keep the wonderful relationship we had to myself,
I must share the warmth, joy and love knowing you has brought to me,
I love you, my dear departed Dad, you are still the flickering light glowing within my soul.

-Donald R. Sansbury, 2013

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A Happy Poet?

Pensive

Pensive (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

As a poet how can I be as history’s best
I may have too much joy
I’ve moved on from life’s toughest tests
I’m living in the moment
No sad respite that keeps me down
No lingering melancholy
Except for pains from aging now
I remain carefree and jolly
Pensive tones are hard to invoke
When happiness rules my days
I remember the times my heart hurt so
‘Twas easy then to turn a sad phrase
But I’ll keep my joy; others may lament sad sorrows and woe
I’ve learned life is short; to enjoy requires some letting go

-Donald R. Sansbury, 2013

Wounded Soul Withdrawn

Shut Up And Go Away

Shut Up And Go Away (Photo credit: t0msk)

Oh, wounded soul withdrawn,
How faint streams the filtered light
through your dark and musty plight
striving to reach your bruised, fettered heart.

You’ve laid the boards and shuttered strong
the windows of your mortal frame
in hopes of staving off the pain
sad recounts of hopeless love imparts.

Yet in your safety shuttered in
from all the dangers known without,
You can’t escape the pain you know within;
You’ve trapped it tight inside the festered dark.

It roils within you like disease,
And eats away the joy and ease
with which you faced life ere the jarring cleave;
It’s left you vapid, cold, and vacuously stark.

And, Love that stands without and calls your name
gets no response as you sadly remain
sealed tight refusing to let the slightest hope have way;
Your once tender soul has become very tough and hard.

Oh, wounded soul withdrawn, sad and sorrowful lot,
Instead of pain, you’ve let happiness depart.

-Donald R. Sansbury, 2013

My Sad Muse (in form Shadorma)

What Hurts the Most

What Hurts the Most (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

My sad muse
Hurts for all today
All deceased
All injured
For all of America
Leads on through sadness

I am moved
Prayed for all today
Grieving homes
Broken bones
For all of America
For peace and for strength

-Donald R. Sansbury, 2013

He Bore Our Grief

Great suffering Jesus!

Great suffering Jesus! (Photo credit: quinet)

He bore our grief, so why should we?
He Who formed our feeble frames
made also relief
Knowing we’d suffer pain.
He took on Himself our plight and cares
that we might cast them off,
And having cast them onto Him,
We then take up His cause.
He bore our grief, so now we His
for sinners still so lost;
As He did not rest, then neither we,
‘Til done the work of the cross.

-Donald R. Sansbury

Why We Call It Good Friday

Good Friday

Good Friday (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

We call it Good Friday because it was bad,
The very worst Friday one ever had;
The day that The Sinless One hang on the Tree
to pay for all sin, when no sin had He.
We say we have joy because He wore grief,
We say through His sorrow we now know peace;
We call Him our Hope because He despaired,
We say we now live because He expired!
We say we are healed because He wore stripes,
We say we are loved because He was despised:
We call it His Passion when describing His pain,
He said, “It Is finished!” We just say, “Thanks!”
We call it Good Friday because that’s the day,
By Jesus, our Savior, our sin debts were paid.

-Donald R. Sansbury