PTSW - My Own: My Present Poem

 

Lillian's birthday will be here again Saturday. One of the things that has plagued my mind since childhood is the cruel truth that even the most hateful experiences have consequences that force the most moral of us to wonder if we would change things if we could.

All Things Work Together: A Daughter is Born

to Lillian

If Daddy hadn't died, would this poem be?

-- A bull through china, the ugly thought crashes --

Would his longer thread in the mesh

of years obstruct by chance

that one in a trillion accident of love,

coincidence of sperm and egg?

-- The breakage, unmanaged, scatters and

scratches! --

Could his garden bugs these years have fed

a nest of wrens to send a wanderer to my window?

And letting a living poem sleep,

might I have written, instead, the wren?

-- Bull-headed I sweep the debris --

If Daddy lives, must the poem vanish?

I weep for my Daddy;

I mourn the wren that never was;

And welcome you to my heart, my present poem.

by Terrell Shaw

PTSW - My Own: True Treasures

 

Exchanging Gifts

What gifts will you bring your Papa?

Pure  gold, however they’re made—

Wrapped in sunshine of smiles;

Tied up with love that won’t fade.

What gift will you bring your Lover?

Its rich, whatever you’ve spent,

You’ve  paid thrice in sweat and tears

and my promises, broken or bent.

What gifts can I bring my daughters?

What present is worthy my wife?

Tawdry trinkets diamonds would seem

On these precious true-treasures of life.

by Terrell Shaw

PTSW - My Own: Bipartisanship

 Doggeral built on the play on words that ends this bit have been in use since at least 1952. This is my version.

 -----------------

The Elections Are Over

The elections are over:

It’s time to be friends.

Let bygones go by!

Let’s make our amends

   The battle was tough.

   Fiery words did we say!

   Now it’s over and done.

   Turn-about is fair play.

Let those in the red states

And those in the blue

Stand in unison vigor,

Our friendships renew.

   With bipartisan spirit,

   Letting vitriol pass,

   I’ll hug your danged elephant

   If you’ll kiss my …

- Terrell Shaw

PTSW - My Own: Commitment

Lillian and Jordan seem to me to be kindred spirits. They join their lives officially later this week. I believe they know that love is a choice. 

Here's a bit of verse I wrote a long time ago about the choice and promise they are making. Lillian's older sister has labeled the sentiments in this little bit of verse as "Dad's rant". Despite her teasing she too recognizes its truth I believe  Yes there must be attraction, compatibility, passion, and more. But it is not love until there is commitment -- a promise. 

I pray this will be a joyful, exciting, fun-filled, and love-filled time as we celebrate their love and the beginning of their life together.

Listen, Daughters

To Brannon and Lillian

Listen, daughters.

Be careful what you name love:

It is not so cheap as musk or fate;

It is not so easy as a fall.

Hear the wisdom of age;

Hear your father’s voice!

Love is a promise.

Love is a choice.

by Terrell Shaw

PTSW - My Own: No Whole

 This one dates to my adolescence. I think it was published in our college literary magazine.

 Faces

Floating fragments of memory tease my mind.

Your many faces are arranged

and rearranged before my mind’s eye.

I am never sure who you really are.

But real is an arbitrary root 

over which I stumble like an infant 

over nothing really.

Love is only real.

But you have really never Loved and

God is Love, and Lord knows, 

He’s not in vogue this year in abstract time,

when like a child’s useless toy 

the windup clock is pounding away fractions 

of something that can have no whole.

by Terrell Shaw

PTSW - My Own: Preface

 

Dear Reader

Mind must convince mind that it can wave the same filaments of subtlety, soul convince soul that it can give off the same shimmers of eternity. - Robert Frost

Stroll gently through this park of secret dreams.

I do not often come here with friends.

I want you to stay, 

Through every joy, pain and fear:

to know and be known

to hear and be heard,
each tone and texture,
all scents and every delicious portion.

Can they be mine alone?

Be patient,

Walk softly through my gallery:

Do you hear?

Do you know?

Do you dream too?

by Terrell Shaw

PTSW - My Own: Dedication

I have played with words since childhood, trying to fully tell my darkest fears, wildest wonders, deepest joys --- and sometimes just some silliness. I will store these, my own, here. When I gave a small booklet of verse to Sheila back in the nineties, I used this bit as a dedication.

For Sheila, Brannon and Lillian

The one I chose, who chose me too;

The one we planned, who startles so;

The one for all, who’s most her own—

To find this place, with the three of you;

And all our love!  

  Any foregone woe,

The terrors and tears in years alone, 

I count as only paving stone.

- by Terrell Shaw