I wrote this at Northeast for the girl who lived across the hall from me on Murphy Hall third floor. She taught me a lot about friendship during that semester. All these years later, she is still teaching me about friendship because she is still my friend!
Being a friend
Is not just the things you do
Nor the things you say
Being a friend
Is not counted in monetary terms
Nor taken for granted
Being a friend
Is not as beneficial as it is necessary
But being a friend
Is a wide variety of things
Packed together with love
And distributed when needed most.
Friday, December 30, 2011
Untitled
Another college era angst poem. Funny, I'm still asking some of these same questions about different people
Do things really last forever
Or do they gradually fade away?
Can I count on you tomorrow
Or just long for you today?
Is our friendship just a mem'ry
Something old that once had meaning?
Or is it lying dormant
Just waiting for the gleaning?
Are the tears I shed for nothing?
Have you turned away, cold?
Or were the feelings we once shared
For something else you've sold?
Do I have to hurt forever?
Does my heart just have to break?
Bit if you;d only offer
A second chance I'd take.
I know this is sentimental
And it sounds like you don't care.
But if mem'ry serves me right
You said you'd always be there.
Though these words are only symbols
Of the way I really feel
And the pain inside seems endless
It's not impossible to heal.
Do things really last forever
Or do they gradually fade away?
Can I count on you tomorrow
Or just long for you today?
Is our friendship just a mem'ry
Something old that once had meaning?
Or is it lying dormant
Just waiting for the gleaning?
Are the tears I shed for nothing?
Have you turned away, cold?
Or were the feelings we once shared
For something else you've sold?
Do I have to hurt forever?
Does my heart just have to break?
Bit if you;d only offer
A second chance I'd take.
I know this is sentimental
And it sounds like you don't care.
But if mem'ry serves me right
You said you'd always be there.
Though these words are only symbols
Of the way I really feel
And the pain inside seems endless
It's not impossible to heal.
Sketches
This one definitely was written during high school
The artist
Takes his brush
And brings to life
A bare, white
Canvas.
The colors dance
Across the board
And form the
Images in the
Eyes
Of the Painter.
And the deepest, most
Intimate
Thoughts and feelings
Of his soul.
The artist smiles
For
His painting
Reflects
The true person
Without saying one
Word.
I used to wish I was an artist
And could draw things exactly
As I see them.
But in a way I
Am an artist
For I write things
Exactly as I feel them.
The artist
Takes his brush
And brings to life
A bare, white
Canvas.
The colors dance
Across the board
And form the
Images in the
Eyes
Of the Painter.
And the deepest, most
Intimate
Thoughts and feelings
Of his soul.
The artist smiles
For
His painting
Reflects
The true person
Without saying one
Word.
I used to wish I was an artist
And could draw things exactly
As I see them.
But in a way I
Am an artist
For I write things
Exactly as I feel them.
For Carol
I wrote this sometime during my senior year at Mississippi University for Women.
If I could I'd paint a rainbow
Every day up in the sky
To help to make you happy
Or comfort you when you cray.
To remind you that you're not alone
And to let you know I care
On those rare and far-between times
When I just can't be there.
But I'm not much of an artist
And rainbows just don't last.
Bad times just have to come
Though we try and keep them in the past.
But true friends are friends forever
Whether near or far away.
And the times we share together.
Are like rainbows every day.
If I could I'd paint a rainbow
Every day up in the sky
To help to make you happy
Or comfort you when you cray.
To remind you that you're not alone
And to let you know I care
On those rare and far-between times
When I just can't be there.
But I'm not much of an artist
And rainbows just don't last.
Bad times just have to come
Though we try and keep them in the past.
But true friends are friends forever
Whether near or far away.
And the times we share together.
Are like rainbows every day.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Possibilities
I have looked for you all of my life.
In the faces of strangers
In the places I’ve wandered
In the things that brought me momentary joy.
In the people who snatched my trust, shattered my heart
And crushed my spirit.
Yet I continued to look.
In my thoughts and plans, silly schemes
Memories, current moments, future dreams
I saw you.
You were there
Somewhere just beyond my reach,
Yet already tucked away in my heart
Waiting to develop at the precise and intended moment.
Maybe all the pain and frustration
Loneliness and bad decisions
Were just a prelude to the current respite I feel.
In time, I will know if this is different
If this is real and permanent
Or just more of the same old mundane
Wishful thinking?
I know the answer.
In the faces of strangers
In the places I’ve wandered
In the things that brought me momentary joy.
In the people who snatched my trust, shattered my heart
And crushed my spirit.
Yet I continued to look.
In my thoughts and plans, silly schemes
Memories, current moments, future dreams
I saw you.
You were there
Somewhere just beyond my reach,
Yet already tucked away in my heart
Waiting to develop at the precise and intended moment.
Maybe all the pain and frustration
Loneliness and bad decisions
Were just a prelude to the current respite I feel.
In time, I will know if this is different
If this is real and permanent
Or just more of the same old mundane
Wishful thinking?
I know the answer.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Reflections on 9/11/01 on 9/11/11
This was the Impatience of Jobe that I wrote for the first anniversary of 9/11.
On September 11, 2001, I was asleep at the time the first plane hit the World Trade Center. I could hear my sister's voice on my answering machine in another room telling me to turn on the television. By the urgency in her voice, I could tell something awful had happened.
On TV, I saw a split screen view of smoke billowing out of one of the towers at the World Trade Center and smoke rising from the Pentagon. I recognized both structures immediately and, without knowing details, I knew that whatever happened was horrendous and affected us all.
Ten years later, I won't sit here and wax philosophically about the state of our country - and our world. We all know that. I'd like to think I am a better person today than I was on September 11, 2001. In a lot of ways, I truly believe I am. But sometimes I worry that I have become more jaded with time and have a lot less faith. And some days I'm not really certain how to rectify that.
So as I remember that horrendous day today - my generation's "date that will live in infamy" - my prayer is that peace on Earth will truly begin within me. It's not a solution by any means. But it's a start.
ANNIVERSARY OFFERS HOPE FOR THE FUTURE
“It was a day when thousands of lives
were lost and thousands of heroes were born.’’ - CBS
anchor Dan Rather
Where do we go from here?
That’s the question many Americans were asking
themselves Wednesday while observing the first
anniversary of the terrorist attacks on American soil.
I asked that question and many others on Wednesday
and the days prior. I’ve been asking several questions
over and over since Sept. 11, 2001. Some I’ve found
answer for; others I’ve found may never be answered
because some things in life are meant to remain
questioned.
In theory, I would have rather gone to bed before
midnight on Tuesday and slept until Thursday morning.
I didn’t want to relive the excruciating feelings I
had that awful Tuesday. I’d felt the pain that seared
my heart beginning to scab and heal a bit and I didn’t
want to reopen that wound.
In reality, though, I knew I would have to face the
day. Ignoring it, I understood, wouldn’t lessen the
pain nor would it erase the facts that evil had
attacked the very fiber of our beings and belief
systems as Americans.
I hadn’t planned to watch any of the TV coverage of
the anniversary. I bought three blank video tapes and
decided to record for posterity a sampling of each of
the three major networks’ coverage at varying times
during the day, ending with NBC’s “Concert for
America.”
My plans to sleep in and get out of bed in time to
go the memorial service at the Corinth Coliseum-Civic
Center were changed when an early-morning phone call
from a good friend who simply wanted to hear my voice
on a difficult day awoke me. Little did she know,
hearing her voice helped me face the day a bit easier
as well.
Not being able to go back to sleep, I did what I
did the year before - I turned on CNN. The network was
covering the reading of the victims’ names at Ground
Zero.
I was able to keep the tears at bay until
17-year-old Marianne Keane, whose stepfather Franco
Lalama was killed in the World Trade Center, took the
podium. With a voice strong and unwavering, the teen
shared what she had read at his memorial service.
The portion of Keane’s speech that hit me hardest
was when she discussed loss. “Things, people, they
go away sooner or later,” the teen said. “You can’t
hold them any more than you can hold the moonlight.
But if they have touched you, if they are inside of
you, then they are still yours.”
Sage words from someone just embarking on
adulthood.
In preparation for this Sept. 11, our news staff
spent the prior month talking with Crossroads area
residents about their recollections of 9/11/01 and how
life had changed for them since.
My assignment was to talk with children and teens
about the anniversary. Rather than talk to them
individually, I chose to submit surveys to two groups
of students at two different schools. One simple,
common thread ran through every survey: hope.
Despite the fear, confusion, turmoil and
heartbrokenness these students have been feeling for a
year, they are hopeful about the future.
Few, if any of them, want to forget what happened
in New York City, in Washington, D.C. and in a grassy
field outside Shanksville, Penn. But they want to move
on in life with hope for a bright tomorrow even in a
world that sometimes looks bleak.
My goal for Wednesday was that as we remembered
those patriots who were sacrificed in the World Trade
Center, the Pentagon and aboard United Airlines Flight
93, I would look for the same hope that teens in
Corinth and Alcorn County Mississippi, as well as
their counterparts all over America, are looking for.
I’m ready for us to put aside our pettiness, our
selfishness and our differences, learn to love each
other for who we are and what we are going to become,
and truly become what we have given mostly lip service
to for the past year (and years prior to this one).
Let’s truly become united in honor of September 11,
2001, and in spite of those who tried to divide us. As
it’s been said by more than one person, they may have
torn down our buildings and killed our comrades, but
they certainly didn’t conquer our spirit.
I just have to believe they only increased it.
On September 11, 2001, I was asleep at the time the first plane hit the World Trade Center. I could hear my sister's voice on my answering machine in another room telling me to turn on the television. By the urgency in her voice, I could tell something awful had happened.
On TV, I saw a split screen view of smoke billowing out of one of the towers at the World Trade Center and smoke rising from the Pentagon. I recognized both structures immediately and, without knowing details, I knew that whatever happened was horrendous and affected us all.
Ten years later, I won't sit here and wax philosophically about the state of our country - and our world. We all know that. I'd like to think I am a better person today than I was on September 11, 2001. In a lot of ways, I truly believe I am. But sometimes I worry that I have become more jaded with time and have a lot less faith. And some days I'm not really certain how to rectify that.
So as I remember that horrendous day today - my generation's "date that will live in infamy" - my prayer is that peace on Earth will truly begin within me. It's not a solution by any means. But it's a start.
ANNIVERSARY OFFERS HOPE FOR THE FUTURE
“It was a day when thousands of lives
were lost and thousands of heroes were born.’’ - CBS
anchor Dan Rather
Where do we go from here?
That’s the question many Americans were asking
themselves Wednesday while observing the first
anniversary of the terrorist attacks on American soil.
I asked that question and many others on Wednesday
and the days prior. I’ve been asking several questions
over and over since Sept. 11, 2001. Some I’ve found
answer for; others I’ve found may never be answered
because some things in life are meant to remain
questioned.
In theory, I would have rather gone to bed before
midnight on Tuesday and slept until Thursday morning.
I didn’t want to relive the excruciating feelings I
had that awful Tuesday. I’d felt the pain that seared
my heart beginning to scab and heal a bit and I didn’t
want to reopen that wound.
In reality, though, I knew I would have to face the
day. Ignoring it, I understood, wouldn’t lessen the
pain nor would it erase the facts that evil had
attacked the very fiber of our beings and belief
systems as Americans.
I hadn’t planned to watch any of the TV coverage of
the anniversary. I bought three blank video tapes and
decided to record for posterity a sampling of each of
the three major networks’ coverage at varying times
during the day, ending with NBC’s “Concert for
America.”
My plans to sleep in and get out of bed in time to
go the memorial service at the Corinth Coliseum-Civic
Center were changed when an early-morning phone call
from a good friend who simply wanted to hear my voice
on a difficult day awoke me. Little did she know,
hearing her voice helped me face the day a bit easier
as well.
Not being able to go back to sleep, I did what I
did the year before - I turned on CNN. The network was
covering the reading of the victims’ names at Ground
Zero.
I was able to keep the tears at bay until
17-year-old Marianne Keane, whose stepfather Franco
Lalama was killed in the World Trade Center, took the
podium. With a voice strong and unwavering, the teen
shared what she had read at his memorial service.
The portion of Keane’s speech that hit me hardest
was when she discussed loss. “Things, people, they
go away sooner or later,” the teen said. “You can’t
hold them any more than you can hold the moonlight.
But if they have touched you, if they are inside of
you, then they are still yours.”
Sage words from someone just embarking on
adulthood.
In preparation for this Sept. 11, our news staff
spent the prior month talking with Crossroads area
residents about their recollections of 9/11/01 and how
life had changed for them since.
My assignment was to talk with children and teens
about the anniversary. Rather than talk to them
individually, I chose to submit surveys to two groups
of students at two different schools. One simple,
common thread ran through every survey: hope.
Despite the fear, confusion, turmoil and
heartbrokenness these students have been feeling for a
year, they are hopeful about the future.
Few, if any of them, want to forget what happened
in New York City, in Washington, D.C. and in a grassy
field outside Shanksville, Penn. But they want to move
on in life with hope for a bright tomorrow even in a
world that sometimes looks bleak.
My goal for Wednesday was that as we remembered
those patriots who were sacrificed in the World Trade
Center, the Pentagon and aboard United Airlines Flight
93, I would look for the same hope that teens in
Corinth and Alcorn County Mississippi, as well as
their counterparts all over America, are looking for.
I’m ready for us to put aside our pettiness, our
selfishness and our differences, learn to love each
other for who we are and what we are going to become,
and truly become what we have given mostly lip service
to for the past year (and years prior to this one).
Let’s truly become united in honor of September 11,
2001, and in spite of those who tried to divide us. As
it’s been said by more than one person, they may have
torn down our buildings and killed our comrades, but
they certainly didn’t conquer our spirit.
I just have to believe they only increased it.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Shooting star offers sign of hope, peace
I wrote this several years ago in my other life as one of my weekly Impatience of Jobe columns for the Daily Corinthian. While looking for a copy of another column I wrote, I stumbled upon it tonight and thought how timely it was for how I was feeling. So I opted to share it here and as a note on my Facebook page.
Tomorrow is an unusually hard day for me. Eighteen years ago my mama died and eighteen years later, I still miss her. Hopefully I will see a sign tomorrow that will provide some peace - and hope and maybe, even, joy - for me on a day that is generally difficult ...
Signs.
From time to time, we all look for them as answers
that Someone is listening to us from above. Or simply
as hope personified in an animate object.
Different people have different signs that are
significant to them. Some are simple ones while others
tend to need the more complex signs to let them know
everything is really gonna be OK.
A rainbow, specific cloud formation or unusually
colored sunset are signs for some people that things
are going to turn around. Certain songs showing up on
a radio station play list, a bell ringing or the voice
of a friend on the other end of a phone signal peace
for others.
Still others find hope in the eyes of a baby or the
reassuring hug of a small child.
My sister and nephew rely on the feathered kind of
sign. A cardinal flying by or perched on a tree branch
speaks volumes to both of them during difficult or
confusing situations.
Whatever the method, you tend to look for these signs
in times of greatest need or distress. Or just times
when you need encouragement.
I’m no skeptic, mind you, when it comes to faith. I
just sometimes have a difficult time putting my trust
into it wholeheartedly. With this in mind, it would
come as no surprise that I don’t have a specific
object that I tend to look for as a sign of
reassurance. For me, it has to be unusual things
showing up in common places to get my attention.
Take a recent Sunday night for example.
Unable to make myself go to bed at a decent time, I
decided at around 11:30 p.m. that I needed to take the
trash outside. Some folks might think that time of
night is an unusual time to traipse outside,
sockfooted and trash bag in hand. Forcing the plastic
bag into the already stuffed receptacle, I noticed
some nearby neighbors had put up new holiday lights.
Taking a brief moment to enjoy the flickering bulbs, I
suddenly realized how brightly the natural lights were
shining in the clear, crisp sky.
Scanning the stars, I attempted to locate the few
constellations that I knew when suddenly, and without
any warning, a light streaked across the sky toward
the west.
Stunned, I held my breath for a split second. Finally
coming to my senses, I quickly made a wish. I won’t
give away the contents of my wish, just in case that
might really jinx its ability to come true, but it was
pretty much an open-ended one.
Trying to not be selfish in the midst of the season of
giving, and sensing there might not be another
shooting star pass my way anytime soon, I made sure my
wish included some of those I consider near and dear.
One part of the wish I will share, though, because it
has already come true in a sense. In the season where
the hustle and bustle tries to overtake the real
meaning of the celebration, I stood on my driveway and
wished for peace on Earth.
Granted that wish hasn’t totally come true around the
globe as wars still rage in distant lands.
But I will take that one shooting star as a sign of
the possibility of peace.
Just as the lyrics to a song I learned as a small
child goes, peace has begun with me for it has sprung
eternal within my heart. I determined that clear, calm
night that no matter how bleak things seemed around
me, I was going to look for a sign of light within the
situation and focus on that positive source.
From now on, too, I will look for those shooting stars
at unusual times to indicate the continuation of the
process of peace throughout the world. I don’t think
it’s impossible to achieve at all. Especially if we
start from within.
Tomorrow is an unusually hard day for me. Eighteen years ago my mama died and eighteen years later, I still miss her. Hopefully I will see a sign tomorrow that will provide some peace - and hope and maybe, even, joy - for me on a day that is generally difficult ...
Signs.
From time to time, we all look for them as answers
that Someone is listening to us from above. Or simply
as hope personified in an animate object.
Different people have different signs that are
significant to them. Some are simple ones while others
tend to need the more complex signs to let them know
everything is really gonna be OK.
A rainbow, specific cloud formation or unusually
colored sunset are signs for some people that things
are going to turn around. Certain songs showing up on
a radio station play list, a bell ringing or the voice
of a friend on the other end of a phone signal peace
for others.
Still others find hope in the eyes of a baby or the
reassuring hug of a small child.
My sister and nephew rely on the feathered kind of
sign. A cardinal flying by or perched on a tree branch
speaks volumes to both of them during difficult or
confusing situations.
Whatever the method, you tend to look for these signs
in times of greatest need or distress. Or just times
when you need encouragement.
I’m no skeptic, mind you, when it comes to faith. I
just sometimes have a difficult time putting my trust
into it wholeheartedly. With this in mind, it would
come as no surprise that I don’t have a specific
object that I tend to look for as a sign of
reassurance. For me, it has to be unusual things
showing up in common places to get my attention.
Take a recent Sunday night for example.
Unable to make myself go to bed at a decent time, I
decided at around 11:30 p.m. that I needed to take the
trash outside. Some folks might think that time of
night is an unusual time to traipse outside,
sockfooted and trash bag in hand. Forcing the plastic
bag into the already stuffed receptacle, I noticed
some nearby neighbors had put up new holiday lights.
Taking a brief moment to enjoy the flickering bulbs, I
suddenly realized how brightly the natural lights were
shining in the clear, crisp sky.
Scanning the stars, I attempted to locate the few
constellations that I knew when suddenly, and without
any warning, a light streaked across the sky toward
the west.
Stunned, I held my breath for a split second. Finally
coming to my senses, I quickly made a wish. I won’t
give away the contents of my wish, just in case that
might really jinx its ability to come true, but it was
pretty much an open-ended one.
Trying to not be selfish in the midst of the season of
giving, and sensing there might not be another
shooting star pass my way anytime soon, I made sure my
wish included some of those I consider near and dear.
One part of the wish I will share, though, because it
has already come true in a sense. In the season where
the hustle and bustle tries to overtake the real
meaning of the celebration, I stood on my driveway and
wished for peace on Earth.
Granted that wish hasn’t totally come true around the
globe as wars still rage in distant lands.
But I will take that one shooting star as a sign of
the possibility of peace.
Just as the lyrics to a song I learned as a small
child goes, peace has begun with me for it has sprung
eternal within my heart. I determined that clear, calm
night that no matter how bleak things seemed around
me, I was going to look for a sign of light within the
situation and focus on that positive source.
From now on, too, I will look for those shooting stars
at unusual times to indicate the continuation of the
process of peace throughout the world. I don’t think
it’s impossible to achieve at all. Especially if we
start from within.
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