Tuesday, June 29, 2010

In words I can never utter .. poetry

In words I can never utter


I just forget

It isn’t that I forget to tell you

It isn’t that I forget how I feel

It isn’t even that I forget you want to know

I just forget

The words to tell you

I see the words

Float by my mind’s eye

I see their color and splash

I see the passion they seek to convey

And I see them falling short of the mark

Their colors are not vibrant enough

To paint the true collage of my love

I plait them with other words

Hoping to bring to bear

The fullness of my heart

And yet, it still fails


I remember

The things I feel

When your fingers touch my skin

When I hear you breathing close to me

When I still taste you on my lips

Long after the kiss is past

I catch your scent

When you are not around

And I am once again overwhelmed

By your presence

I can close my eyes

And see you dancing among the words

That seek to capture how you make me feel

At that moment

I know

I will never really have the words

I will never possess the ability

To express

In letters expertly arranged

In syllables skillfully organized

In words capably displayed

The true pinnacle and profundity

Of what lives in my heart

Of what dances in my soul

Of what frolics in my mind

Of what love holds in me

For I am captured by you

I am a captive to your heart

In words

I can never utter

Ron Simpson, Jr.

June 29, 2010

Sunday, June 20, 2010

in Celebration of Fathers

The man that saw me as a child and the child that saw me as a man

Can I tell you how hard I fought to grow up?
No matter what I did I still was the child
You were proud all my life when I did the grownup things
How delighted you were when I began to talk
How you beamed when I began to crawl and walk
Beginning school and even jobs eventually
Even as I grew into all the things men do
Part of me remained a child
That part that ever lived in the back of your eyes

There was a part of me that never left those days
When seeing the pride in your eyes was everything
Others could certify and recognize my accomplishments
The established authority could give me frame-able evidence
Still it paled in relationship to the feeling I got
When the child in my heart burst into your room
Excitedly carrying the proof of my accomplishment
To show it to you and to see once more
The child that still lived in the back of your eyes

I could see him, you know

He would awaken from some light slumber
He would come close to the side of your eyes
And as he heard you go on about whatever prize I had brought
He would begin to glow faintly
As you would scrutinize the evidence
As he read with you every word
Every whereas and hitherto
He would come to a sparkle
Barely noticeable to those gathered around
But the child half that resided within me
Saw the brother that still resided within you
And for that moment
I lived as a boy that still needed his father’s approval

For all our relationship may have become
This part of it seemed ordained to remain
The child that lived within me always needed to be in touch
With that child that lived still in the back of your eyes
That symbiosis sustaining both
Each carrying to and carrying from
Both the child I thought I would always be
And the child you thought you would always see

Then one day
Quite unexpectedly
You went away

The adult I had turned into knew the day would come
Even unexpectedly, my heart had tried to prepare me
I had filled my life with relationships designed to replace
I had established other ports to share my goods
They offered the heartfelt pat on the back
They brought the warmth of societal recognition to bear
They stood ready to replace
That one place that could never be replaced
For all their warmth and genuineness
They did not have the child I would always be
Living deep within the back of their eyes

No matter how often the child inside came to see
There was no child other half looking back at me

Dad, I miss so many things about our relationship
Others have stepped up to try to fill
No one does so in any attempt to take your place
They do so merely to fill your empty space
None of these, however, can fill this space

It has come to me finally some fifty plus years past my birth
That the child I recognized so intently in your eyes
The child that called out so earnestly to the child in mine
Was there before I was even born
He was in part, part of the joy you had for me as your son
And part of the child that lived in your eyes
That always looked for the child in his father’s eyes

I thought the child living in the back of my eyes would die
When you left so abruptly that day in March
I knew he would languish and pass without his symbiotic partner
But I have found, and none too soon
He lives just fine
He sparkles and shines
And exchanges his knowing glances
With the children that still live in the eyes of mine
My sons and daughters still seek him
Even if they do not know it

There is a child still living behind their adult eyes
And that child still bursts into dad’s room
Bearing the authentication of their accomplishments
They bring the frame-able evidence into the court
They know they are fulfilling the role of adult
But there is a child living deep inside
That comes to find the child living deep inside
And they sparkle and shine
As the children that never die
Behind the sparkles in dad’s eyes

I cannot see the child that lived in your eyes anymore
I will miss him ever
But his work and legacy go on
He has taught me to ever see
The children living deep inside
Hiding playfully behind
The adult in my children’s eyes

Ron Simpson, Jr.
March 27, 2009

Saturday, June 19, 2010

in Celebration of Fathers

A Hero

As a growing boy
I had several heroes
Some wore capes
Some flew through the air
Some had webs
While others had glowing repulsor beams

My childhood heroes
Came in various sizes, shapes, and colors
They had special powers
With super secret identities
They had super foes
To provide spectacular battles

As I grew,
My heroes changed
They became more real
And worked their special abilities
In the real world
The same real world in which I lived

They were leaders
Men and women of peace
Or champions of important causes
They battled injustices
With the powers of the mind
And the weapon of the pen

Older now
And looking across a stretch of time
That sees the changes
Wrought by a near lifetime
Of growing and changing
My heroes have become closer

The caped flying warrior of justice
Still brings the smile to my boyish heart
The champions of world issues
Still stir my being to fight the good fight
However, now I can see the heroes
That have been with me all my life

You didn’t put on a cape and fight my foes
But you did keep me safe
You didn’t fight hunger in the world arena
But you worked, everyday, and fed a family
You have always been my champion
Even when the sparkle in my eyes
Was captured by some far distant star

You are one of my heroes, Dad
Even when I didn’t know what heroes were
You were there filling those shoes
Today, you will just smile
And say you were doing what fathers do
But, I will know,
That is part of being a hero too

Thanks for all the years
Of being my unsung hero

Ron Simpson, Jr.
June 18, 2006

Friday, June 18, 2010

in Celebration of Fathers

We Followed You

When we were young
We would follow you around the house
We would go from room to room
Crawling or toddling, as children do
We didn’t know where you were going
Or where the journey would end
We simply knew
We wanted to follow you

We were scattered severally
Over a ten year span
So, while some crawled, some walked
But each of us, in our own way
Followed you

You never really acknowledged
That you knew how closely we watched
Or how hard we tried to follow
But, I am sure you knew
And you led, and we followed

Some of us, or just one of us
So bold in our teenage rebellion
Promised we would never walk your paths
We would blaze our own trails
In opposite, or perhaps, obstinate directions
Not realizing, that in doing so
We were following you

You taught us to travel
And follow our own courses
You gave us more than you ever had
You didn’t change our diapers
Or feed us our meals
While some doctor of figuring out reasons
Would have a field day with that
Still, we never doubted your love
And still, we followed you

A while back
You stepped through a door
And we could follow you no more
At least, not for long while
But, you left a trail
A pattern, if you will
A shining example

We cannot follow you as closely
As when we crawled behind your heels
We can still follow you
We can follow your example
We can follow your life
That you lived fully and openly
We can follow your words
That you shared without hesitation
We can follow your heart
That you gave without reservation
We can follow your faith
That was manifest in everything you did

You lived right
You left too soon

I hope
When my day comes
I have the same faith
I have the same course
I hope
I have followed as you followed

I hope
We have followed you

Ron Simpson, Jr.
December 22, 2007

Thursday, June 17, 2010

in Celebration of Fathers

The Child I Never Saw

When I met him,
He was as old as anyone I knew,
As we walked,
He aged, and I grew;
I never knew him unknowing,
I never saw him young,
I saw that shining warrior,
Of which many songs were sung;

He held me,
He clothed me,
He fed me,
I was the child,
He could not be;
As I played hide-n-seek,
He saw what my tomorrows might be,
He worked,
And he dreamed, for me;

He held faith,
He harbored hope,
He kept the dream,
I never saw the child,
But, hand in hand,
We walked in times stream;

The man I am today,
Belongs to the child I never saw.

Thanks, Dad.

Ron Simpson, Jr.
June 21, 2001

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

in Celebration of Fathers

this was written two weeks before Dad passed away ..

I Believe

He has been my teacher all of my life
The lessons ranged from simple to difficult
We have talked about life
And all the things that fill it
We even talked about the end of life
And what comes beyond

I see his lessons in the actions I take
I see his hand in numerous places in my life
Sometimes when I talk, I hear him
Saying the same words in another place
And that gives me a measure of confidence
To use the words already tried and true

One of the lessons Dad spoke of
Involved one of life’s hardest realities
He talked about a time
When he would not be here
He wasn't making plans
But knew that time’s eventuality
Would catch up to even him one day

Standing here, looking at you
More helpless than I have ever seen
I remember what you would say
If you were looking over my shoulder
I can hear the words you have spoken
And I know the reality

God is more than able
He is working all things
According to his time and plan
Be not afraid, only believe
Faith is the substance of things hoped for
The evidence of things not seen

These are the words
Tried and true
These are the words
You are still saying to me
And I believe, Dad
I believe.

Ron Simpson Jr

February 22, 2007

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

in Celebration of Fathers

Father’s Day
It seems being a father gets more difficult every year. The responsibility and decisions keep getting bigger. It was much easier to decide between the Malibu Barbie and the Glamour Barbie. It was easier to care for them then, seeing as how they were just sleeping in the next room. If something, anything, happened in the night, I was just a cry away. I remember how hard it was watching them, as they were sick or hurting. I remember how much I wanted their aches and pains to stop. I recall how we fretted about the fevers and the scraps.
Now days, the cry in the night comes across a phone line. The hallway between our bedrooms has grown by miles. No one warned me about how tough this was going to be. When my girls were young, I could get up in the night, walk quietly into their rooms, check their fevers, pull up the covers, and steal away back into my bedroom. When they cried, we were there to wipe the tears away. When I worry these days, I just have to worry. I cannot be there to wipe away the tears now.
I thought parenting would be much easier than this. My parents made it look so easy. Being in their place now, I realize how hard it was for them. I also understand that part of it never goes away. Rightly done, parenting is forever coupled with the worry. Worry ebbs like the tide. Some days it is low tide. Some days it is high tide. Every year the decisions change. It has gone from help with homework to help picking out a good insurance company. It has changed from helping with their dolls and tea parties, to helping with the grandchildren and real dinners.
Yes, being a father has grown way beyond my original expectations. It is more difficult. It entails much longer hours than I anticipated. The choices are harder every year. When I look at my daughters, however, I cannot wait. I will worry, as I should. I will be quiet when I need be. I will be the great tower of advice. It will be much harder next year, and I can hardly wait.

Ron Simpson, Jr.
Father of Audrey, Chasity, and Heather
Fill in Father for Chris, Sierra, Chelsea, and Kyle
Father’s Day 2004

Monday, June 14, 2010

in Celebration of Fathers

In celebration of Father's Day, I will post a poem each day this week dealing with fathers .. mostly mine .. since he was my shining example ..

From The Shore

There is a lighthouse standing,
O'er the rocky breaking shore
It's light a glaring bright,
It's horn, a lion's roar;
It clings to it's foundation,
Though progress crowds it's fragile perch,
For lost in deep and murky waters,
Desperate ships for him search;
He stands out from all the others,
His architecture old, but true,
When change is all around us,
He is always close to view;
Marking off his constant light,
Many ships have safely sailed,
Ignoring his oh so gentle roar,
Upon the rocks ships have failed;
There is a lighthouse standing,
Father, he is called,
Different from all the others,
For in him, Love is walled;
He looms above the crowded throng,
A tower filled with wonders much,
His roar, both stern and gentle,
His light, a probing and warming touch;
In deep and silent waters,
Needing directions from the shore,
I seek the bright and guiding light,
And listen for his lion's roar;
For though I pilot this wondrous ship,
I hope never to be alone,
For on the shore stands my father,
Guiding me from times more known;
Always be old, but true,
Always shine and roar,
Always be my guiding light,
Even from the shore;
Thank you, Dad.

Ron Simpson, Jr.
Father’s Day 1994

Saturday, June 05, 2010

Catching Up

I have been catching up with old classmates on Facebook .. it seems that there have been many deaths among those sharing my graduation decade (the 70's) .. it prompted this ..

Catching up

I remember a time, and it seemed like yesterday
We walked the same halls and sat in the same desks
We were trapped in our lives or so we thought
“When I get out of here, I’m gone.”

It would be several times in the several years after
That we would run into old friends from those days
We would ‘catch up’ will our fellow escapees
And bring everyone up to date on all the news
Of course, then, the news consisted of job information
Or college information, or wedding information
We would see who did finally marry who
And who went to which university as planned

There would be the sad news of the rare death
An accident, or a sudden illness, or other cause

Years would pass in our lives and they took shape
And we would visit the old places on home visits
And there we would see the occasional classmate
And we would ‘catch up’
Now, the news would be about a career
Or we would talk about our children
And we would laugh about the old days
And how we never figured our lives
Would have turned out his way

And, oh yeah, did you hear about Steve’s death
“Oh my, no, please tell me what happened.”

Before you know it, you are getting reunion news
“Has it been that long?”
Familiar haunts, memorable faces, recognizable names
We share; we are well into our careers,
And the kids are growing up so fast
We have built a life somewhere else
But it is great to come home and ‘catch up’
We listen and share stories so common
For all our different paths
We are all so much alike

“Where’s Dave, I didn’t think he would miss a reunion.
No, I hadn’t heard. I am so sorry.”

Out of touch for so many years now
More and more ‘catching up’ is sad news
Those that were once just a handful
Now would fill our old school bus
Or maybe even more than one
Every time you hear a statement
That begins with, “Did you hear about ..”
Your heart flinches just a bit
It could be good news
It could bring elation
More and more though
It is the harbinger of sadness

And yet
Here we are
“Catching up.”

Ron Simpson, Jr.
June 5, 2010