Archive for the ‘Love poems’ Category
It is not measured
by gifts great or small,
or acts of kindness
expressed one day alone,
but by chosing to live
a selfless life, with a heart
that does not seek
to take what he deserves not,
but to give back what another need’s;
it is that which God call’s love.
_______________
Joyce E. Johnson (2018)
“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not self-seeking. It is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrong. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.” I Corinthians 13:4-7 NIV This is called the ‘Love chapter’ by many bible scholars. I love this scripture passage as it teaches us how to love unselfishly, the kind that gives back, not expects to receive, a good lesson in life. JEJ
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No eloquent words, flowers, gifts or cards
could he give her, but just a token
gesture of his affection
with twisted smile, and memory all but gone.
Eyesight, hearing, failing too,
he tried to form his thoughts,
while expressing his love to her,
but his stroke had stolen from them so much.
Like the younger version of himself
with vibrant, baritone rich voice
when he once belted out old tunes,
are but broken phrases hanging on.
With faint muttering he attempts to sing,
to remember the lyrics, what he wants to say
like the day he swooned her heart with song.
But, she’ll treasure what they have today
for she fears the day when he is gone.
and prays to God it lingers on.
_______________________
Happy Valentine’s Day to all.
Joyce E. Johnson © 2017
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Recipients, waiting for hearts
Pray faith imparts
What most they need
From one’s kind deed
~~
With hope the hearts that are reserved
For both preserved
That each receive
Will they believe
~~
Grant to them both extended life
Husband and wife
And not by chance
Be their last dance
________________
Joyce E. Johnson © 2016
Footnotes; The above poem is called a “minute poem” according to the writersdigest.com site. It is named for having a total of sixty syllables because a minute has sixty seconds, thus giving it that name. The poem contains three (verse) quatrains, each having twenty syllables, in a four line stanza with the rhyming scheme done in aabb/ccdd/eeff/ rhyme fashion. Cutting some unnecessary words, rhyming with them all in their right position, can be tricky, so I reworked this one several times. I always look forward to receiving my quarterly issue of Writer’s Digest magazine as it is packed full of great information and articles for writers, and gives me opportunities to practice new forms of poetry.
The above illustration is mine, written in a story form of a married couple, both needing heart transplants, and both receiving their new hearts at the same time. Because of Valentine’s Day coming up on February 14th (next Sunday) I have decided to use this poetic verse rhyme to tell my little story. I hope you have a Happy Valentine’s Day and enjoy my little story. JEJ
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Mellowed through the years
like a fine, aged wine
Love is that thing
that invites itself into
your heart and seeks
to make its home.
________________
Even though it was such a long time ago I can still remember the year; 1966. We were engaged, planning our wedding and looking forward to our move to California to begin our marriage as 19 yr. old newlyweds starting college and new jobs in L.A. We were kids never having been out on our own before.
As the years rolled by I remember how busy we were, raising our girls, involved in so many things with our school and church, then as our girls grew up things slowed down a little and we could begin to relax. There were nice dinners out, roses and bouquets, those special dinners I fixed at home on holidays, and cozy nights on a cold wintry night in February, celebrating another Valentine’s Day expressing our sentiments and messages in cards like the one above my husband gave me one year.
The years were not all roses, or as sweet as aged, fine wine, but then I never really did like wine much. 🙂 But, roses I loved. They were like the kisses and fragrance of God’s sweet breath that blew softly upon our union, and when difficult times came the roses just made things all the more bright and beautiful when we learned that the best gift we could give each other was just respect. And when things seemed crazy, out of order or weird we learned how much better life could be when we learned to just laugh at our mishaps, and know that with every new day the sun did shine, even though at times it was behind a cloud. 🙂
Happy Valentine’s Day
Joyce E. Johnson (2015)
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Happy Valentine’s Day from Loveland, Colorado. It is the city affectionately known as the ‘land of love’ although that is not how it got its name, Loveland. It is also known for the Valentine Re- mailing Program. Contests open each year for artists and writers to compete with their entry in design and verse for a special Valentine’s Day card selected for the year’s Valentine’s Day card produced and sold in stores and Visitors’ Centers here promoting the city and state tourism. The cards purchased are stamped by resident volunteers with a special logo design stamp, then mailed out by local branches of the U.S. Postal Dept. and sent to cities, states and countries all around the world. It is an annual program and tradition where everyone can get involved in the spirit of Valentine’s Day. By the first of February the city is decorated with big red hearts displayed and placed along the streets to promote this special day. There are Valentine themed events and festivities, and the girl chosen in the Miss Loveland Valentine of the Year contest visits the state capital and presents the Valentine’s Day card and gifts to our governor and state representatives.
It’s a day when love
permeates the air; hearts full
of promise and hope
___________
Joyce E. Johnson (2014)
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Photo credit: Joyce E. Johnson
BRIDGING OUR LIVES, TOGETHER
Like flood waters rushing beneath a bridge,
so too have the years, behind us raced by.
We think back to a moment in time, and say,
“Do you remember that? The place?
What we did, where we were, the day?”
Our children we raised together, and prayed
through every situation, the happy, and sad.
Albums and boxes are full of those times;
the photos and mementoes of places we’ve gone,
of our children born, grown, and raised,
the vacations taken, miles traveled and logged,
family dinners, holidays, grandchildren’s births.
Even the spontaneous and randomly unplanned,
those we look back as if they happened today.
All is recorded in the margins of our lives,
filled in the pages of journals, and poems.
So, it is on this momentous day and time
We stand here blessed on that bridge of life
Thankful we can remember all gone by.
_____________
poem by: Joyce E. Johnson (July 16, 2013)
Happy wedding anniversary to my husband, Wayne
with love, on our 47 years of marriage, today (July 16, 2013)
______________________
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The below story poem is a narrative ballad I wrote many years ago. I posted this last June on my blog, but am re-posting it for this week’s word prompt on Geraldine’s Woven Dreams: A Creative Prompt Blog. This week’s word prompt is alive. I hope you enjoy the story and comments are always welcomed.
__________________
THE RETURNING SAILOR
Down the coast and out to sea,
a voice, a whisper beckons me.
It is the sound of her calling my name.
Would she still love me, a man with my shame?
Will she remember the hands that caressed
her face and body, and how I confessed
of the love and tenderness for her in my heart,
wrenched and torn, when we had to part?
Now, I’m returning and will look for her,
alive with the burning desire to stir
the love we shared when I left for the sea.
I pray she’s still there, waiting for me.
There was a fight. Oh, God! What a mess.
It was late that night. I drank to excess.
I did not know, but did not care
that her husband knew of our love affair.
Coming alive with a fist to my jaw
intent on surviving once the knife I saw
I sprang with shifting feet in dread,
landing a blow with my right to his head,
then felt the piercing pain and might
of flashing silver turned crimson bright.
With his knife to my flesh, and muscle it tore.
Bleeding and enraged I came down and bore
the knife I captured, to his chest then came
in self-defense went at him the same.
His breathing stilled, and he lay dead.
Was justice served this way instead?
I went away broken, feeling despair
leaving her behind, her grief to bear.
Like an anchor weighed down
with heavy remorse
wherever I sailed, wherever my course
I could not forget how she once loved me.
Now I’m returning from a dark, cold sea.
_________________
Poem by: Joyce E. Johnson
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