Poetry .. for Mom (Mother's Day 2010)

More than I could ever say

She has been a mom longer

Than she has been my mom

She had two successful trial runs

Before I came along

Even if I was her first boy

I don’t know how much she gleaned

From my two older sisters

And their care and feeding

But I do know I can’t remember a time I worried

That she didn’t know what she was doing

If she worried that worry

She never showed it to me

I didn’t always think she was right

(Although now, older, I realize she was right

Much more than I thought back then)

But, she was always still mom

I know there were times

I didn’t give her the respect she deserved

But, she still never stopped giving me love

Even though, now, as a parent myself

I know there are times I am afraid

She was fearless in my eyes

She was never afraid to correct me

She was never afraid to extol me

She was never afraid to admonish me

And she was never afraid to embrace me

As a child,

I never knew other kinds of moms existed

I thought everyone had a mother as good as mine

Now, over half a lifetime later

I can see the great and precious gift God gave to me

She will readily tell you that I was a gift from God

But she was not the sole recipient of gifts that day

God gave me the greatest mom in the world

For every time I may have forgotten to tell you

For every time we parted without hugs

For every time I could have said, and didn’t,

I love you, mom

More than I could ever say

Ron Simpson, Jr,

May 6, 2010

Poetry .. No Words

No words

There are words by the millions

We use them daily around the world

We express our joys and our sorrows

We build bridges with them

We tear down walls as well

Words tell our stories

Words sing our songs

Words lift our hearts

Words comfort our minds

We use our words

To express our desires

To articulate our needs

We teach our children

“Use your words”

Some people say so little with so much

Whiles others speak volumes with very little

Some words are anticipatory

Waiting for muttering to become “Mama”

Some words are prophetic

Spoken in a needed time

Some people are remembered for their words

The “I have a dream’s”

And the “Ask not’s”

With other words spoken out of hatred and fear

That we try so diligently to forget

Words

They are everywhere you look

We clutter our landscapes

With billboards filled with words

Words

They are everywhere you listen

We jam the airwaves

With every idea that can be

But, there are times

This being one of those

That, words cannot express

That, language, with all its finesse

Cannot make the listener know

The hand clenched into a fist

Not of rage, but frustration

Of being betrayed

By our closest companion

Words

All the words we know

Cannot tell what we feel

No collection of syllables

Will ever, ever tell

What they see inside this heart

They should be pouring outward

As it is broken

It cannot contain them

And yet they fail

The songwriter

Will never fully capture it

The poet

Will not be able to pen it

Today, there are

No words

Ron Simpson, Jr.

April 29, 2010

poetry .. Everybody Goes Home

Everybody goes home

When my children were young

Friends would gather

And they would play for hours

They would whisper and giggle

But, eventually, the time would wind down

And one by one, their friends went home

Family would come together

For holidays or just good meal

We would laugh and reminisce

We would meet all the new babies

Time would fly by

But, eventually, the time would wind down

And one by one, our family would go home

Saints would gather in

From places all over the country

The conference speakers were all primed

Together we would worship and recollect

The time was full of love and Spirit

But, eventually, the time would wind down

And one by one, we would all go home

For over two thousand year

Souls have been added

And we have fellowshipped together

Some we have met in person

Others we know only through prayer

And some, only by the shared spirit

But eventually, time would wind down

And one by one, they would go home

It can’t be long

Until time is no more

And there will be a great gathering

Children will assemble

From the far corners

And we will stand in the presence of our King

There will be no time to wind down

And everyone will be at home

Ron Simpson, Jr.

April 28, 2010

poetry .. Hurt (not a statement of my life)

This addresses no issues in my life. However, being somewhat empathic, I do feel the hurt of those around me and most times that migrates into my writing ...

oh yeah .. by the way .. this is my 1000th post .. wahooooooo

Hurt

Do not speak to me of tomorrow

Or of its magical healing properties

For, although time, may heal wounds

It also testifies of wounds that never heal

Do not talk to me of your pains

As if by having them

They should commiserate with mine

And that should make things well again

Do not try to placate me

With how this had to be for the best

You do not live within the walls of my life

And could never know

Just how far from the best this actually is

My life is one large gaping wound

The edges are frayed and ragged

In the center of this wound lies my heart

Ripped out and cast aside like debris

Trampled like the confetti from yesterdays parade

Your happiness chafes me

Your bliss cuts me like a dull ragged edge

Grating on the edging of my hurt

Impeding the very chances of recovery

Deep down I know you feel like you are helping

You imagine you must know my hurt

Perhaps in some place you do know

But cannot remember it exactly

From the shore upon which you now stand

It is as if one word, one action

Has made everything else in your life untrue

Everything you thought you knew is now unknown

Everything you tried to do is now undone

What was once in my heart has vanished away

Like the dew in the heat of the morning sun

Everything I held once true and dear

Slips through my fingers like elusive grains of sand

I do believe, I have to believe

Without that belief I could not get up each day

For now, I need to feel this hurt, pure and raw as it is

I need to know it, face it, and claim it

It must be me and I must be it

Do not try to take this away from me

If you cannot let me hurt

You add to my hurt

Hurt with me,

Hurt for me,

Hurt around me

If you must

But let me hurt

Hold my hand

Dry my tears

Listen to my ache

If you must

But let me hurt

I will be changed when this is done

But I will survive, nonetheless

I will be timid for a time, maybe forever

But … let me hurt

I know you are there

I know how much you care

I know where to find you

But ... let me hurt

Do what you must

Do what you can

Do what you will

But … let me

Hurt

Ron Simpson, Jr.

March 11, 2010

Valentine's Day poem for my love

Our love is like

Our love is like ..

Standing on a precipice

Feeling the rush of wind

From the depths below

Sometimes hot and arid

Sometimes moist and cool

Feeling the dizziness of the height

Yet, with my feet planted

Firmly on the ground

Living in the feeling

Of being swept up at any moment

Our love is like ..

The firm ground

At the edge of the abyss

It gives no hint of letting go

To the yawning cavern

Beckoning just below

Feeling the rock steady

The feeling of knowing it is there

And knowing it will be there

Should one jump

It will be there to land upon

Our love is like ..

Taking a walk

As walking is falling and catching

Lift one leg and fall forward

At the last moment

Catch yourself

Then do it again .. and again

Daily, over and over

I fall for you

I lean in the future

And before I fall

Our love catches me once more

Our love is like ..

Standing in a raging river

Pushing and buffeting

Constant threats

Of overflowing the banks

And sweeping me away

I can fight the current

Or I can go with the flow

The truth is somewhere in the middle

As I take our love wherever I go

And it takes me wherever it goes

Our love is like ..

Living in a volcano

Sometimes smoldering

Sometimes erupting

Sometimes smoke and ash

Sometimes liquid heat

Our passion burns

Sometimes just below the surface

Sometimes blindingly bright

Sometimes in smoky eyes

Sometimes in the simplest touch

Our love is like ..

A heart breaker

A soul mender

A life lifter

A hope carrier

A joy giver

Our love is like ..

Indescribable

In every way

On every day

And still we try

I love you, TJ

Ron Simpson, Jr

February 10, 2010

For Valentine’s Day

still drawing

Friend ... Hope

Daughter .. Heather

Friend .. Carolyn

TJ's Aunt Carol

Doc .. M Hinkle

poetry .. Real

Real

Lying here entwined with you

I am overwhelmed

Inhaling the scent of you

Absorbing the warmth of you

Swimming in the gentle roar of you breathing

Adoring the soft touch of your fingers

Feeling your skin next to mine

Desire is sated

And reborn in every touch

Passion explodes

And rekindles in every kiss

Want is emptied out

And filled in every caress

I know love is a feeling

I know it is supposed to be intangible

I also know that I feel it against me

I smell it

I taste it

I am surrounded by it

I hear it

I see it sparkling in your eyes

And feel it sparkling in mine

My love for you

Exists in all of my senses

And while it may be indescribable

Well beyond the words of my lips

I know it when it comes to me

I am carried away by its scent

I am blinded by its brilliance

My heart pounds in rhythm

To the sound of its beat

My lips savor the taste

Long after our lips have parted

My fingers remember

The feel of it beneath them

My love

Your love

Our love

Real

Ron Simpson, Jr

January 29, 2010

on a totally unrelated note ..

AVA !!

and Cuteness has a sister ..

Cuteness Overload

I told Cloe I was going to throw her away this morning. She said, "Put me in the trash, Papaw." This in one of the resulting pictures ..

Poetry .. Life is in the living

Life is in the living

We spend a lifetime

Trying to pack a life

Into a life span

Only to find it does not fit

Our deeds always seem

To spill out and over

What we finish lives on

What we start continues

We never finish

If we were to look back

As we come to an end of a life

We would see life

Still rushing to catch us

For all of our care and planning

We are rarely ready

For the day

For the weekend

For the holidays

For the end of days

Herein is the end of it

We do what we can

While we can

And pray it is enough

We make the preparations we can

And wait for life to blindside us

At the last moment

With small details

Or the ‘big picture’

That we seemed to have missed

Still, at the end of the day

We look back

We thank the creator

For the love we have felt

For the tears we have cried

For the battles we have fought

We try to finish one more thing

Before we close our eyes

As if it might give us a head start

For the work of tomorrow

So ..

run ..

fight ..

strive ..

contend ..

Take whatever measure of success

You may find

Relish in it,

For it is fleeting at best

Life is in the living

Not in the obtaining

Life is in the trying

More so than in the achieving

Life is in the running

Everyone cannot be winning

Life is in the living

Live it

Ron Simpson, Jr.

December 29, 2009

Christmas

more poetry

Just something that fell out of my brain ..

Lies and Truth: The Life We Live

The words danced neatly,

Slipping through the ranks of soldiers

Polished gleaming white,

Giving no hint

To the faint scent

Of the rancid decay,

Gathered from the backside of the line

Lies are lined

Like a gently innocent picket fence

Surrounding the nearly perfectly manicured

Blades of deceit,

Trimmed exquisitely

To the predetermined length of societal acceptance

How long before the lies we tell

Become the life we live

Or the life we live

Becomes the lies we tell?

If then,

The lies become the life we live,

Are they still lies

Or simply the façade

Of whom we wish to be?

Is this the mask we wear

Until the time we grow beneath

To mimic the features of what we wish to be?

Have we then become

That which we aspired to be

Or are we merely the skin of truth

Stuffed with proper lies?

Have the lies we tell others

Become the lies we tell ourselves?

Harsh truths

Become the revealing x-rays

Of our true selves.

We shudder

At the mention of it

We scurry away

From its presence

Like scared mice

At the sounds

Of its approaching footfalls

We peer at the truth

From our cloistered hiding spots,

Hoping it will wander away

Before noticing our smell

Too late

For too long

Have we lingered

We are captured

In truths unrelenting stare

We can feel its unwavering gaze

Stripping away the layers

Of our years

Of practiced deceit

It works without favor

No malice of heart

It carries no grudge

It is only what it is

The truth

When truth has finished

Its unconscious task

We stand revealed

In our stark nakedness

Stripped of our excuse

Devoid of our pretext

Alone in our own self

Then we can see

Then we can know

Who we are

And where we need to be

When we stand

Sans lies

Sans deceit

Sans excuse

From the humbled perch

Of undefiled truth

Can we begin to build

The building of who we are

Founded on the foundation

Of revelation

Of truth

Of what we are

We are

All of us

Cut from the cloth

For flawed humanity

Of this tapestry

We are all a part

In this

We all belong

We all fit

In the stark revealed truth

Linked

Humanity to humanity

Flaw to flaw

Truth to truth

It was only the lies

That separated us

That created the barriers

That forced the division

Until now

We are now joined

In lies and truth

In the life we live

Ron Simpson, Jr.

December 14, 2009

Poetry

Yes, it has been a while since I posted, but I wrote this for a friend and thought I would share it. It is based on the Bible story of Jarius, a ruler in the synagogue, that came to Jesus when his daughter was dying ..

The hardest words

I thought I knew the hardest words

When they told me my daughter was ill

The doctors did all they could, but to no avail

She grew weaker every day

I prepared my heart for the hard words

I never wanted to hear

Words surrounded me

Words of comfort and words of dread

Every new test brought words of optimism

Every new result brought the words of despair

The words came and went

But the hardest words still loomed ahead

I heard of a healer passing through the town

He and His followers were crowded by a mob

I heard He held healing in His very touch

I can’t recall now whether it was faith or desperation

That drove me down the streets

Drawing closer to the crowd and the healer in the midst

Words surrounded me as I drew close

The crying of the mob seeking his favor and attention

Everyone was trying to get closer

Just to touch even the hem of the garment He wore

Then suddenly I was standing before Him

And saying what I thought were the hardest words

“Lord, Come and heal my daughter

She lies at the point of death”

Even as I spoke the words

They tore through my heart

To speak them aloud seemed to give them strength

And they became the hardest words I had ever said

He healed others as we traveled

Time seemed to drag as we moved

Then came the messenger I never wanted to see

With the words I never wanted to hear

He held them in his mouth waiting to spill

The hardest words, “Your daughter is dead”

I never thought there could be harder words

Until Jesus turned to me and spoke

“Be not afraid, only believe”

For months, possibly even years

I watched my daughter slowly die

Every doctor’s words were harder than the last

As one by one they extinguished each word of hope

And every hard word became a brick

That built a wall around my heart

Now, the messenger, with the final brick

Brought me the words I thought I feared the most

I had built this dread in the silent place in my heart

Where the words dared not be whispered

Where, there way down deep, still lived a small hope

That was broken irrevocably by these few words

How can He say to me now

“Only believe”

For years I have believed

And watched that belief stripped one layer at a time

For months, through the endless procession of physicians

Each taking a piece of my belief as they shook their heads

And now that the final piece has been swept away

He tells me to ‘only believe’

These are the hardest words I have ever heard

“Only believe”

Today, as I watch my daughter playing with her friends

As I watch her comb and braid her doll’s hair

As I see her giggle at the glance of some boy in her direction

The hardest words still echo inside me

“Only believe”

I give these words to you, today

In the middle of your trial

In the midst of your despair

Surrounded by all the other words

That seek to rob you of your faith

“Only believe”

Hold on to the hardest words

“Only believe”

Ron Simpson, Jr.

December 6, 2009

follow up

My daughter took her daughter to the DR on Monday for more testing and follow up from the testing on Friday. The Friday testing revealed markers for leukemia.

The DR told my daughter, "I don't know what we saw on Friday, but there is nothing here today."

Her potassium is still low, but vitamins or bananas will fix that.

We are ecstatic over here. Thank you for your prayers and well wishes and positive thoughts.

prayer request

I haven't been faithful to the blogging thing, doing more posting on facebook. I am finding myself these days more of the voyeur and less of the exhibitionist. What I share with y'all today is more of a prayer request than a post, but a post nonetheless. If you are a praying sort, I am asking for those prayers. If you are not, send whatever positive thoughts or energy you can muster in our direction.

My daughter, Audrey has a 7 year old daughter. Kyleigh is a bright energetic replica of her mom. She had blood work done today pursuant to some recurring headaches. The blood work came back showing high lymphocyte levels in her white blood cells, high creatine levels in her kidneys, and low potassium. The Dr's told her to bring Kyleigh back in on Monday for more testing, but are leaning toward leukemia. It is not a confirmed diagnosis. It is just where they are starting to look. However, as you can no doubt imagine, Audrey is extremely fearful.

I would appreciate your prayers. I know that the God we serve is a healer. I know the power of life and death, health and sickness are in His hands. As you pray this weekend, and as you pray at church this weekend, please include Kyleigh and Audrey and Adam in your prayers.

Thanking you in Christ,

Ron

Kyleigh with her Halloween pumpkin last year ..

A Journey

How do you measure a journey

Is it in the time captured

Is it in the number of steps

Both carefully measured

And haplessly carefree

Do you count it in the years

Or the months, or the weeks

Is it in the details of the day

Or in the broad strokes of time

Viewed and reviewed

Is it measured

In the seeds that are planted

Or in the crops that are harvested

Is it in the lasting effect

Or the immediate response

How do we know

When the journey is too short

Or tell when it is too long

For the journey is, simply,

From a beginning to an ending

When and where it began

Can be definitely pinpointed

But the end of the journey

Is never really known

As long as someone recalls

As long as the stories are told

As long as the memory holds

As long as the yearbook is read

And the bold signing beheld

The journey continues on

We will take you to a place of rest

We will sadly recall the past

We will recount the good times

We will measure them against the future

And some will think the journey has ended

We will know

It is far too soon to measure this journey

For while one may count the seeds in an apple

We will scarcely know the apples in a seed

And the journey continues

Ron Simpson, Jr.

October 14, 2009

For Allen Terry

February 20, 1988 - October 11, 2009

been facebooking

I have been facebooking. Amazing how we make verbs of the nouns we use.

There has been much happening. The highest on the list of event has to be Chris' release. Chris was released from Three Forks Regional Jail at 12:01 AM on September 1. The jail told us they would hold him til morning if we wanted, Tammy assured them that would not be necessary. we were there at 11:30 to begin the process. We, being Tammy, me, Chella, Kyle, Sierra, Nick, Cloe, Kiera, Jeff, Michelle, Becca, and Stacy, gathered at the doors. We welcomed him to the outside for the first time without having to return. Then we gathered our train and headed to the parking lot of the Dollar General to meet Granny, Granny was a cook in the kitchen and grew close to 'juggy' as she called him. They visited for a bit while the Beatyville police drove by. It seems that midnight meetings in the parking lot of the Dollar store are not the norm in that town,

It is great to have Chris home.

Nick did his Nick thing again. He went AWOL. Idiot. He has has three leaves while in the Army and has gone AWOL every time. Eventually, he goes back before it become desertion. That would mean time in Leavenworth. He is back in Korea now. Sierra is looking for a new place to live. The drama continues.

I am still out of work and looking everywhere.

We are still paying the bills and keeping the roof over our heads.

Time goes on. I am drawing and writing. I have drawn over 100 portraits this year. It is still fun. I have been thinking of doing some painting. We will see where that goes. Some I have been reading on Facebook, Some I keep up with by email. Some I still keep up with here.

I am sure more will follow ...

Kiera Jo

for all my non-facebooking picture viewing life following friends :