Me and My Kleenex Box
Well,
Now I’ve went and done it.
I caught myself a cold.
It seems a wad of tissues now
Is all I ever hold.
I cough.
I sneeze.
I blow my nose.
All day as well as night.
This war on mucus has become…
A never ending fight!
Its medicines,
And vials of goop,
Then off to see the doc.
A pain inside my throbbing head…
And a voice that does not talk.
I’m sick and tired of breathing not.
And feeling ‘Oh so Blah’.
Where grabbing Kleenex from the box…
Has turned my nosy raw!
I toss.
I turn.
I cough.
I gag.
I sneeze and then I gasp.
It seems a good night’s restful sleep…
Is something of the past.
I cough.
I hack.
I feel like crap.
It’s like some voodoo hex.
I guess I’ll sit and feel like heck…
Just me and my box of Kleenex.
Clint Gardner 2011
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Saturday, December 24, 2011
ETCH
The year was 1920.
December twenty four.
The little town of Holton…
Where Eva Mae was born.
That Kansas town was just the start
Of mother’s too short life.
‘Twas there she met a boy named Don…
She’d one day be his wife.
Her High School graduation came;
Topeka was the place.
Then off she went to tackle life…
A smile lit her face.
She married Don in 44
Then off he went to war.
When Jim was born they had no clue…
That there would be five more.
Carole, Lynn, and Donna Rae,
Then Clint and finally Beth.
The places and the years flew by…
There was little time for rest.
California, Idaho, and back to Colorado…
Their moving never done!
They even had a homestead cabin…
Up high on Douglas Mountain.
Now Eva Mae could cook and sew,
She loved her children always!
She struggled hard and never quit…
Till each of them was raised.
Eva loved her husband Don
He always called her ‘Etch’.
Something that she loved to do…
Was sit for hours and sketch.
And though my Dad left Mom behind.
Her love for him lived on.
She loved the man for all her life…
Long after he was gone.
I can’t begin to scratch the surface,
When praising Eva Mae.
A thousand poems or accolades…
Her love would not repay.
She never got to be retired,
She passed away too soon.
I think of all the times I missed…
Her sing, ‘O Mister Moon’.
And if she was alive today,
I know just what I’d do:
I wish I could walk up to her…
And whisper “I love you”!
Happy Birthday Mom!
Clint Gardner 2011
December twenty four.
The little town of Holton…
Where Eva Mae was born.
That Kansas town was just the start
Of mother’s too short life.
‘Twas there she met a boy named Don…
She’d one day be his wife.
Her High School graduation came;
Topeka was the place.
Then off she went to tackle life…
A smile lit her face.
She married Don in 44
Then off he went to war.
When Jim was born they had no clue…
That there would be five more.
Carole, Lynn, and Donna Rae,
Then Clint and finally Beth.
The places and the years flew by…
There was little time for rest.
California, Idaho, and back to Colorado…
Their moving never done!
They even had a homestead cabin…
Up high on Douglas Mountain.
Now Eva Mae could cook and sew,
She loved her children always!
She struggled hard and never quit…
Till each of them was raised.
Eva loved her husband Don
He always called her ‘Etch’.
Something that she loved to do…
Was sit for hours and sketch.
And though my Dad left Mom behind.
Her love for him lived on.
She loved the man for all her life…
Long after he was gone.
I can’t begin to scratch the surface,
When praising Eva Mae.
A thousand poems or accolades…
Her love would not repay.
She never got to be retired,
She passed away too soon.
I think of all the times I missed…
Her sing, ‘O Mister Moon’.
And if she was alive today,
I know just what I’d do:
I wish I could walk up to her…
And whisper “I love you”!
Happy Birthday Mom!
Clint Gardner 2011
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Happy Father's Day
JVC
James was always tall and thin
He worked hard all his life.
Florence found his heart one spring…
She soon became his wife.
The only man I ever knew
Who drove a clanking street car.
He played a game of front porch checkers…
Like there was no tomorrow.
He took a million photographs;
Developed each himself!
And though he captured all of us…
He never caught himself.
He tinkered in his little shop;
Made wooden craft galore,
He gave them out to all he knew...
Then started making more.
He watched a zillion baseball games;
Knew all the players by name!
He’d tell you all about their stats
Their name -- and claim to fame.
His yard was quite immaculate.
Built a patio for feasts.
The front yard sidewalk always edged…
The Magnolia leaves -- policed.
And in the back for all the kids
The mighty swing so tall
The grandkids spending all the day
Soaring o're the wall!
His Studebaker in the drive
A pride none can deny.
The day Flo sold it…late in life
Twas the only day he cried.
James V. Coulson, a Kansas man.
Remembered…though long passed!
This Father’s Day we shant forget
The Legacy you cast.
In honor of James Vivian Coulson (1892-1971), my Grandfather
By Clinton Gardner 2011
James was always tall and thin
He worked hard all his life.
Florence found his heart one spring…
She soon became his wife.
The only man I ever knew
Who drove a clanking street car.
He played a game of front porch checkers…
Like there was no tomorrow.
He took a million photographs;
Developed each himself!
And though he captured all of us…
He never caught himself.
He tinkered in his little shop;
Made wooden craft galore,
He gave them out to all he knew...
Then started making more.
He watched a zillion baseball games;
Knew all the players by name!
He’d tell you all about their stats
Their name -- and claim to fame.
His yard was quite immaculate.
Built a patio for feasts.
The front yard sidewalk always edged…
The Magnolia leaves -- policed.
And in the back for all the kids
The mighty swing so tall
The grandkids spending all the day
Soaring o're the wall!
His Studebaker in the drive
A pride none can deny.
The day Flo sold it…late in life
Twas the only day he cried.
James V. Coulson, a Kansas man.
Remembered…though long passed!
This Father’s Day we shant forget
The Legacy you cast.
In honor of James Vivian Coulson (1892-1971), my Grandfather
By Clinton Gardner 2011
Thursday, May 12, 2011
Birthday Poem
My Little Sister
Long ago while just a boy
My sister Beth was born.
And that was when I first began...
'My life with little sister'.
The older siblings sped ahead,
To live their lives abroad
Leaving me...to keep an eye
On Beth, 'My little sister.
Named after a family friend,
Her middle name was Jo...
But she was always known to me
As just 'My little sister'.
For many years...twas just us two
Together with our mom...
Precious times while growing up
With Beth, 'My little sister'.
Eventually, we both grew up,
And went to live our lives;
And though she now has kids her own...
She's still 'My little sister'.
Today she has some grandkids too,
And lives quite far away.
But to me...shes not a 'Grandma Beth'...
She's still just 'Little Sister'.
Today she is a little older...
We'll just say "under 50"
And though we're neither one real young
...she's still 'My Little Sister'.
Love you Beth! Happy Birthday
Long ago while just a boy
My sister Beth was born.
And that was when I first began...
'My life with little sister'.
The older siblings sped ahead,
To live their lives abroad
Leaving me...to keep an eye
On Beth, 'My little sister.
Named after a family friend,
Her middle name was Jo...
But she was always known to me
As just 'My little sister'.
For many years...twas just us two
Together with our mom...
Precious times while growing up
With Beth, 'My little sister'.
Eventually, we both grew up,
And went to live our lives;
And though she now has kids her own...
She's still 'My little sister'.
Today she has some grandkids too,
And lives quite far away.
But to me...shes not a 'Grandma Beth'...
She's still just 'Little Sister'.
Today she is a little older...
We'll just say "under 50"
And though we're neither one real young
...she's still 'My Little Sister'.
Love you Beth! Happy Birthday
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)