Phases of Love

   I wrote this poem after taking a class on Human Growth and Development.  It was interesting to read in the textbook about so many stages in life that I'd already lived through, to see the stage my parents were in, and to look ahead at the stages in my future.

The obvious time to post this poem would be Valentine's Day, but I chose now because my two sisters and I all have wedding anniversaries in September.  Happy September anniversaries everyone!  

 

This artwork was done by Carolyn when she was in grade school.  I loved it so much I framed it and hand it every February when I decorate for Valentine's Day.

 Phases of Love      By Janet Sobczyk, 2011ⓒ

Two people fell in love.

He loved her laugh, her beauty,

and skills with cooking.

She loved his eyes, his calmness,

and sense of humor.

They talked about marriage,

about their dreams, and children.

They shopped for two rings,

made announcements, set a date;

plans fell into place.

The big day soon arrived.

He was happy, she just glowed.

She walked down the aisle,

wowed the big crowd, they said vows,

then he kissed the bride.

Their honeymoon was grand.

They flew away, for a week,

to walk on the beach,

hold hands and kiss, and relax,

loving every night.

Next they bought a house,

did some painting, laid carpet.

They filled it with stuff,

good cooking smells, and laughter.

It was what they’d dreamed.

Soon a baby arrived,

to change their lives, forever.

With smiles and gurgles,

frequent feedings, sleepless nights,

and all those diapers.

Baby worked hard to crawl,
and then to walk, next to run.
Toddlers turn into
children and then, teenagers,
each phase a challenge. 

Life got much busier.
 Car pools and school, and more kids,
time flew by so fast.
With stressful jobs, lots of bills,
aging parents, too.

Their worries and cares grew.

Tensions emerged, pulled apart

by their hectic lives.

How well could they, or would they,

keep their love alive?

 

Don’t be a statistic,

stay together, for the kids,

was their decision.

Ride out the storm, and then hope,

for much better days.

The nest became empty.

How could kids leave?  It’s too soon.

Now what will they do?

Renew old ties, use the time

for themselves again.

They tried some new hobbies.
Joined a card club, went dancing,
 found new restaurants.
Planned vacations, took pictures,
enjoyed the grand-kids.

The golden years flew by.

Old age set in, sickness too.

“’Til death do us part”

wasn’t so long, after all.

- - - - -

Redecorating

I thought this would be an appropriate poem for Labor Day weekend because so many people do home projects over those three days.  

Redecorating  By Janet Sobczyk, 2011ⓒ

Her favorite colors were blue and green,

they added calm to her home and décor.

She saw a photo in a magazine

that gave her eyes a lift and her heart soared.

A kitchen dressed in bright yellow and red,

not her favorite colors but a change

for the room that kept her family fed,

it would wake them up and feel slightly strange.

So she bought light yellow paint for the walls,

a collection of red glass for the shelf,

bright red towels, and soon she was enthralled.

She did it alone just to please herself,

but when people walked in they loved it too.

She was surprised at the praise the room got,

much more than when it had been green and blue.

Should she change the bedroom too?  Maybe not.

 

The Daily Treadmill

Now that school has resumed, this poem seems appropriate.  

When Andrea read this, she said it just looks like a to-do list in ryhthm.  Well, yeah, that's kinda the point. 

The Daily Treadmill

By Janet Sobczyk, 2010ⓒ  

Up at daybreak

Step in shower

Dress and make-up

Time for breakfast

Prepare lunches

Lug some laundry

Check the schedule

Scoot kids to school

Stop to get gas

Waltz through workday

Run an errand

Pick up kids now

Calm a quarrel

Whip up supper
Feed the dog, too

Hug a hurt child

Bandage boo-boo

Help with homework

Play a board game

Tuck the kids in

Read a story

Pray a blessing

Dash through dishes

Sweep the kitchen

Lug more laundry

Answer emails

Laugh at late show

Turn off TV

Kiss my sweetheart

Collapse in bed

Repeat tomorrow!

                              So why am I overweight?

Orphaned Bunny

This poem seems to follow naturally after the last posting about saving a butterfly. The reality is, not everything can be saved and not all endings are happy.

As children, when this happened, we didn’t know that wild bunnies are incredibly difficult to raise without a mama (who was found dead.)  We were sure we had loved it to death.

 Orphaned Bunny by Janet Sobczyk, 2012ⓒ

Dad found a baby bunny

With no mama around.

Scared and alone in the tall grass,

It didn’t hop away.

Dad brought it home to his daughters,

We thought it was so cute.

We took turns holding it gently

And took lots of pictures.

We named it and loved it so much,

Our sweet baby bunny.

But all babies need their mothers

As this one surely did.

Without its mom it wouldn’t eat

No matter what we gave.

It was tired and fell fast asleep,

But never did awake.

We gave it a sad funeral

And cried for our bunny.

We only had it for one day,

It was here and gone quick.

Forty years have now passed us by,

We still remember it.

The Broken Butterfly

This is not a photo of the preserved monarch.  It wasn't very photogenic.  :)

At the time this happened I was too young to know  that Monarchs migrate, live through the winter in a warm climate, and migrate back in the spring like birds.  I thought it was nearly a miracle that it lived so long and felt like it was a special gift.  In fact, after it died the next spring, we put it in an empty toffee tin and I still have it, almost perfectly preserved. 

The Broken Butterfly  By Janet Sobczyk, 2012ⓒ

I found it on the ground

With a bent, broken wing

Still alive and strug’ling.

I scooped it gently up

And carried it to school.

Monarch survived the day

In my small wooden desk,

Then I carried it home.

Fed on sugar water,

Let loose in my bedroom,

It rested and then crawled

And fluttered its good wing.

It sat by the window

To enjoy the warm sun.

My pal all winter long.

Andrea at age 10 looks a lot like I did when this story took place.