MomHappy Mother’s Day Everyone

Categories: Poems
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Published on: May 12, 2013

Happy Mother’s Day to all the mothers out there! Here’s a poem I wrote a LONG time ago for my own mother. Enjoy!


 

Mother Earth

by Diane Graebner

 

There’s a reason we call it “Mother Earth,”
This planet that nurtured, and gave us birth.
 
For a mother gives of herself when a child is there
Her pain; her hope; her love; her prayers.
 
And each creature, each flower, each plant and stone
Is a gift from our “mother”, to call our own.
 
For like the Earth, a mother’s gifts
Are part of her soul; are what she is.
 
A mother’s love, a mother’s song,
A mother’s milk and arm so strong
 
Are all there to guide; To protect and provide
 
From a child’s youngest days.
 
And as that child grows, and flies from the nest,
A mothers prayers are the armor that makes every test
Though difficult, a task none the less
Attainable.
 
A mother’s shoulder is also there
To cry on, or to ease any care
 
That burdens a child in any way.
 
So to my mothers, both of you true,
“Mother Earth”, and mother — you.
 
I give back some of what was given to me
I give back my soul, my life to thee.
 
And when I hear a bird’s sweet song
Or smell a flower, or ponder long
 
Over cloud, or sunset, or the sun’s heat strong.
 
I’ll think of my mother, and though we’re apart
I’ll always have her in my heart.

Mother and Diane

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HomepageNew Stuff on the Main Site!

Categories: About Diane
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Published on: February 25, 2013

So, I took a long-needed, nearly 10-day “staycation” this past week! I mostly lounged around the house, watching TV and resting. I also spent quite a bit of time going through old folders of papers and photos looking for stuff for the website. I found some gems, and have added them to the main Generations-Poetry site.

When Grandmother passed away about 9 years ago, a lot of her papers went to my Aunt; her daughter. My Aunt recently found a folder of Grandmother’s writing, and passed it on to me so I could add it to the website if I wanted to. I wanted to!

Here is a summary of what’s new on Generations-Poetry.com!

  • In 9th Grade English, I was asked to interview someone from another generation. I chose Grandmother. I found that paper in a folder of some of my writing, and added it to the front page of the site. It gives a great deal of insight into my Grandmother’s beliefs.
  • I added quite a few poems to the site; both my own and Grandmother’s. Look for new poetry on the following pages: Christmas, Grandpa’s Page, Potpourri, and StoryQuest.
  • I found a short story Grandmother had written about my Father’s pet ducks, Booble-a-binga and Beeble-a-binga (yes, that’s what my Father named his ducks!). It’s on the Fables & Tales page.
  • I found a snippet of a poem I started 30-some years ago in church. When inspiration struck, I had to write my thoughts down. I wrote the first verse of a poem on the retirement club insert of the church program. 30 years later I finished the poem and added it to StoryQuest. It is called God’s Hand.
  • One of the biggest treasures of all was a stack of handwritten pages containing the original first-drafts of some of Grandmother’s poetry! I added a Lightbox effect to the site and linked to those original copies after the poems on the site. I also added a few news articles about us on their respective pages.

Well, have fun storming the site, kids! I’ve still got a stack of papers right next to my keyboard on my desk, so watch for more to come later! I may have to take another vacation to get it all done, though!

 

 

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Swim, PT, SwimA Memorial to P.T. Barnum

Categories: Poems
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Published on: October 2, 2009

Heaven’s Park

By Diane Graebner

Saint Peter sits at heaven’s gate, his gilded book in hand;

Upon it writes the names of those admitted to the Promised Land.

As each is called, he speaks their names, and writes them on the page.

And then below he writes their deeds; the story of their age.

 

And when each life is written down, upon its golden line;

Each man or beast goes through the gate into a land divine.

 

All worldly cares are thus relieved; all troubles cease to be;

Each one released from mortal woes, and earthly frailty.

 

There came a time a small frail dog approached the heavenly port;

His fragile legs could barely stand without a hand’s support.

 

He looked about with fading eyes, and trembled on the mat;

St. Peter softly wrote his name, then gave his head a pat.

 

And then with one last gentle touch, the gates were opened wide;

The tiny pup first faltered, then slowly limped inside.

 

In front of him there suddenly, appeared a great green field;

He felt his cares all melt away, his pain and anguish healed.

 

A gentle light shone all about, where trees and flowers grew,

Be-speckled by the rays of light, and gently washed by dew.

 

And there he plays eternally, within that heavenly park.

And angels smile to watch him romp, and hear his cheerful bark.

In honor of my dog, Phineas Taylor Barnum, who died on September 23, 2009.

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Andy Goes to Florida

Categories: Children's Poems, Poems
Comments: No Comments
Published on: May 21, 2009

Andy Goes to Florida

by Diane Graebner

Andy goes to Florida,

He rides upon a plane,

He stays for almost two whole weeks,

And then goes home again.


Andy visits Grandma’s house,

He peeks in every space,

And eats some homemade brownies,

With a great big smile on his face.


Andy rides in Grandpa’s car,

He sits in the backseat,

The car makes lots of funny sounds,

As it drives along the street.


Andy visits Aunt Diane,

He sees her office too,

And on her desk he sees displayed

All the pictures that he drew.


Andy goes to Florida,

He goes most every year,

And his family is glad he does,

At least that’s what I hear!

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Change is Hard

Categories: Poems
Tags: , , ,
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Published on: May 19, 2009

Change is Hard

by Diane Graebner

Change is hard.

Change feels simple, but simplicity is misleading.
Like wearing a new pair of shoes when the old ones wear out,
Our aching feet and blisters reveal the truth.
We struggle to walk, to climb, to run,
Until our feet eventually become used to the difference.

Change is hard.

Change can be unexpected, sneaking up on us when our backs are turned.
Losing a cherished friend or beloved family member to illness or death,
Brings pain and sorrow for those who remain behind,
The loss growing ever dimmer
Until finally all that remains is a memory, fading and distant,
But still there, a part of our soul.

Change is hard.

Change can be painful, a blade that cuts deeply and leaves us bleeding.
Love, unrequited, brings sorrow and distraction to our lives,
As we give our hearts to someone, only to find we get nothing in return.
Finding love only to lose it to the sands of time,
As affection fades and adoration turns to spite,
And we find we have to struggle to allow ourselves to love again.

Change is hard.

Change is necessary, a part of life that cannot be avoided.
We grow and learn, discovering new vistas,
Casting off old ideas and thoughts, like an artist pulls back a sheet
To reveal the sculpture beneath, refreshing our minds and souls;
Growing from the simplicity of childhood into the complexity of maturity,
Becoming more fulfilled and more complete in the process.

Change is hard.

Change takes time.
Like that pair of shoes, change requires “breaking in.”
Soon our stride strengthens and the joy returns to our step,
As changes become comfortable and familiar.
Soon we are running again; free to feel the breeze on our face,
As life suddenly has new bliss and new meaning.

Change is hard.

Change is part of life.
But change is hard.

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