|
Disappeared Lavaliere – for Judy
Gin-Nie Tanner Smith
July 3, 2010 copy right 2010 ©
The lavaliere has disappeared,
Innocence of younger years,
In Laurel County tis
did start,
From his lapel to her heart,
But she remembers it well.
A shot-gun cabin of simple build,
Front porch neatly swept, upon the hill,
Strewn with flower pedal’s upon the steps,
Pineapple pudding, narrow dirt lane kept,
But she remembers it well.
In cold mist of a mountain morn,
Under colorful quilts they all stayed warm,
A family of loving folks and guest,
Oh, those sweet days, of all the rest,
But she remembers it well.
Silently a boy down the hall,
As morning shadows follow the wall,
Awakens his sweetheart tenderly,
Within a sweet kiss, for all to see,
But she remembers it well.
Tis lost; a boy, flowers, shot-gun cabin, and a kiss,
Colorful quilts, a cold mountains morning mist,
Those tender years; but she remembers it well,
The lost lavaliere and Laurel County’s magical spell.
Post-Stroke 2010
The Unknown Place
Gin-Nie Tanner Smith
Post Stroke the eve before Mother's Day, 2010
May 14, 2010, copy right 2010©
This is a safe, deep hidden place within my soul.
But, I hear your voice beckoning me back,
I want to stay here, I really feel safe and relaxed,
Yet I know I must come from within, do I have the knack?
With a sigh, I slowly pull myself from the calm to begin,
Back into the confusion of present time doth spin;
The light begins to fill the windows of my eyes to spy,
Your face of concern and confusion, I must try;
But, I am not sure if you are he,
Or in fact, if I am, well, me.
My mind engages to empathically state,
You had a stroke, make no mistake;
But I can’t grasp where I am or what I have just done,
Sophie comes to me, her spirit full of life and fun,
Tis her 5th birthday I know, but I don’t know where to come;
I must go to my children, but where are they?
Their names are lost, but their faces have stayed.
Tears fill my soul, fear and confusion takes my reason,
I cling to you, my husband, is this the final season?
Hold me, bring me back, but I beg you, protect me,
I am not ready, or want to leave you, it seems to be;
Where are my good children, I need them near,
Why am I so befuddled and where comes this fear?
Shower,
Post-Stroke
Gin-Nie Tanner Smith
May 13, 2010, copy right 2010©
Mother’s Day two thousand and ten will never end,
T’was on that eve that my soul took me deep within;
For you see, though a short measure of time is lost in my span,
But praise to faith, my faculties and senses come ‘round once again,
It is to glory I can still feel from the in to the out, as life once more begins;
Slowly disrobing as to enter the mist, hubby keeps me steady,
He stands outside the curtain, supportive hand at the ready;
Softly the hot shower envelopes me from head to toe,
Left arm tattooed yellow and blue from needle probes;
I observe my white body invaded and bruised, moving quite slow,
My right hand is disabled with the IV port and red specks,
Telemetry patches at strategic points on my chest and neck;
Red Dot patches from my arms to thighs and my ribs,
Yet pure joy fills my soul as thoroughly immersed within the mist;
A sweet bouquet of luxurious shampoo fills the tiled space,
Fragrant soap removes traces of procedures from my hair and face;
Scrubbing ‘round telemetry patches as if to remove the fact,
That a short measure of time will never come back;
Secure with the steady hand awaiting my refreshed corpus,
I reach for his hand and begin a new day and fortes;
For again, nature cannot take my resolve away,
As faith, love and a hot shower affords me another day.
Okay, I Hear You Already!
Gin-Nie Tanner Smith
May 15, 2010, copy right 2010©
Don’t do anything that makes you dizzy or weak,
Does just standing up count, oh, this malady has me beat;
Can’t drive for seven days, or take care of your family,
So, I had a brain fart; does the doctor know anything about me?
Who will wash the dishes, vacuum or wash the clothes,
I can’t just set here as the dust gathers and grows;
Supper needs preparing; I have a fine job to go to,
Just lie here and heal, now, that makes me true blue;
Hey, I am a fighter, a goal setter, to say the least,
Lay here and heal, have no tactical goal, doesn’t jive with me;
But after four loads of clothes, dishes and sweep,
Ok, I hear you, as now I am weak and woozy on my feet;
But, I am still a fighter and goal setter, that always be,
Now I know what is at stake and will accept what is for me;
Give me time to understand what I can or can’t do,
Those around me will have to accept and deal with all this to;
I still have my innate gifts and can live within this frame,
I know God is not my tormentor, but nature is to blame;
Faith and prayer of loved ones lift me from the blight,
Think I am beaten, No, not ever in this or the next life.
See, the Sun
Gin-Nie Tanner Smith
May 13, 2010, copy right 2010©
Look, see the sun!
Alas, I have lost the azaleas, they have past,
Ere lost days due to a moments lapse,
My body failed me and thus collapsed.
But, look, see the sun!
Each minute that passes proves I have won,
Each blade of verdant grass stands on it’s own;
The petunias in the pot are gloriously pure white,
Dawn seeks the morning, dusk seeks the night.
Look, see the sun!
Carolina blue skies
wrap ‘round the earth,
The mockingbirds trill sing of heaven’s worth;
Color, sound and composition are acutely bright.
My senses are keen to this single day’s canvas of life,
Look, see the sun!
The cats fur feels silky as they wrap ‘round me in hugs,
Steve’s hand supports me strong and snug;
I feel our pulse blending as joined in this test,
Though I lost the azaleas, I know I am blessed.
See, the sun!
|
