Simple, yet simply beautiful

I have always adored the kaleidoscope.  Pick one up and have a look:

Kaleidoscope

I like to gaze into your peep hole,
It's like I'm looking into an old soul,
The colors are so rich and bright,
When I hold you toward the light,
Unique patterns, small works of art,
Slowly stealing away my heart,
I turn you slightly, in anticipation of a vision,
New artwork appears with great precision,
You delight and truly fascinate all,
Like stained glass windows in a grand cathedral,
Simple, yet simply beautiful too,
Kaleidoscope, I like peering through you.

Tammy Harvey  written:  2/24/2016

Rose with no thorn

I've posted many poems about my maternal grandmother.  Today's posting is in honor of my paternal grandmother who was nearly the polar opposite of Mam-maw L.  Elsie Katherine was born on August 26, 1904, and died September 18, 1986.

Elsie Katherine

My other grandmother, unlike my Mam-maw L, was quiet and reserved,

She never spoke too loudly, but got respect as she deserved,

She cooked fried chicken every day, and wore a clean white sweater,

She always sat in a rocking chair, or porch swing, even better,

She was married to a Baptist minister; raised six children during the Depression,

She didn’t say a whole lot, but made a big impression,

She was sweet and kind, gentle and timid; embarrassed easily when teased,

My Dad teased her all the time; but with him she still was pleased,

She didn’t travel any or even leave her house,

She hand-sewed the prettiest quilt tops, as quiet as a mouse,

For Christmas she always received scissors, needles, and white thread,

And I’ll always remember the chamber pot tucked underneath her bed,

She crocheted baby sweaters with matching booties too,

I have several of those for keepsakes, yellow, green and blue,

She passed away in ’86, before our boys were born,

I wish they could have met her; she was a rose without a thorn,

A pink rose as pink was her favorite color,

For to know Elsie Katherine Paschal was to really love her.

Written:  6/11/2016   Tammy Harvey

Don't lie to me

If there is one thing that boils my blood it is dishonesty.  As the Presidential Election 2016 nears and with it the recent campaigns, allegations, debates, conventions, and conflicting media reports, it seems fitting to post this poem now:

The Truth

Don't lie to me, don't falsify,
Don't do me wrong, don't even try,
If there is one thing I do not tolerate well,
It's dishonest people and the lies they tell,
They know the truth, but it suits them not,
They are never satisfied with what they've got,
Excuses: none to justify lies,
It's their known deceit that I despise,
A web of lies they choose to weave,
Will not hold true, will not deceive,
The web will catch them like a spider's prey,
Someday soon, if not today!

Tammy Harvey  written:  5/27/2016

Shiny Pearl

A good friend of mine has a daughter whom I have watch grow up.  She has special needs and requires a one-on-one care provider to give her constant supervision.  She has grown into a young lady of 23, graduated high school and lives in a group home in Albermarle, NC.
Her name is Melissa.

A girl named Melissa

A special young lady named Melissa is as dear as anyone you’ll meet,

She has autism and is not too verbal, but what a thrill to have her greet,

She says “Hi” to me multiple times, and multiple times I reply,

She has never met a stranger; she’s a social butterfly,

She signs into her hand the letters of my name,

She does it every time we meet; it always is the same,

She enjoys repetition and a schedule she must follow,

She knows what today is and the day after tomorrow,

She likes cheese and blueberry muffins; those are her favorite snacks,

She went to prom and graduation; those are just the facts,

I have had the pleasure of knowing her, since she was a girl,

If you opened the oyster shell, she is the shiny pearl,

A curiosity to watch her grow, to see her swim the pool,

To see her dance to music; to see her go to school,

Sometimes she sits quietly and I wonder what she is thinking,

Her mind seems to be racing; her attention seems to be shrinking,

She loves Barney and Disney and vacationing on a cruise ship,

She remembers everyone she’s ever met with accuracy like a bullwhip,

Her Mom is her biggest advocate; she wants for her the best life,

Fulfilling and purposeful; happiness without painful strife,

Her Mom will not be silenced when it’s a voice Melissa needs,

She wants for her opportunities and for Melissa to succeed,

Melissa is now a beautiful woman of twenty-three,

She has a lot to offer, as we can clearly see,

All grown up, in a group home, not a little girl,

But inside that oyster shell, she is still the shiny pearl! 

Tammy Harvey   written:  8/19/2016

Melissa & Cinderella at Disney

Spare Change

Another true story poem about a beloved vase that we had in our home in the 70's, and I have it now as a keepsake.

The Big White Vase

A decorative piece; a mid-century vase,

With a funky shape and a clunky base,

White, tall, and very unsuspecting,

It became a safe for coin collecting,

At the end of the day, Dad visited that spot,

He emptied spare change from his pockets a lot,

Like a genie in a bottle, a generous guy,

The vase seemed to be an endless supply,

With an opening large enough to swallow my arm,

When I reached to the bottom, but don’t get alarmed,

My lunch money awaited, the honor system we had,

Used at the school cafeteria where food was not bad,

When summer came along, there was plenty to spare,

Each of us took a guess as to how much was still there, 

The quarters, dimes and nickels made the white vase quite heavy,

But we dumped it in the floor and counted it readily,

It usually was at least $300 or more,

This was our vacation money to go to the shore,

Off to Myrtle Beach, SC, our family did race,

Because Dad tossed his pocket change in a vase, 

White, tall, and very unsuspecting,

It became a safe for coin collecting,

The big white vase

Tammy Harvey    6/29/2016

It's a BOY!

 On Sunday, 8/14. we found out that our grand baby is a boy!  There was a "reveal party" featuring doughnuts filled with blue cream.  It was a torturous wait for me to have watched the ultrasound on Wednesday, while the answer to the gender question was sealed in an envelope for only the doughnut shop to read. Everyone, literally everyone, including the baby's parents, found out together. It was exciting.
In honor of our new little one, this poem reminisces about raising our own boys:

Boy Toys

You started out small, Matchbox cars and Legos,

Transformers, toy guns, Nerf balls, Cheerios,

Spiderman, Batman, Ninja turtles too,

Street hockey, baseball, trampoline and who knew?

There were bicycles, scooters, soccer, wall ball,

Night games, swimming, tent camping each fall,

Pokemon, Silver Surfer, and Magic cards too,

Then Driver’s education, yes, the time really flew,

It was growing up taller than Mom ever was,

It was motorcycles, girlfriends and growing peach fuzz,

It was graduation and prom, and that kind of thing,

It was believing you could do almost anything,

It was college, studying and going to class,

It was hockey and fishing, catching some bass,

It was good friends, laughter, video games with the guys,

It was YOU growing up before our very eyes,

Oh, but you did and you made nice young men,

We are proud of you sons, May God Bless you, Amen-

Tammy Harvey  written:  6/28/14

Horse power

Recently I was privileged to witness my great nephew taking classes at a Therapeutic Academy of Riding.  Through horse-related activities persons with disabilities or other special needs receive a wide range of benefits and build a sense of personal achievement.  It was fascinating to watch and inspired this poem:

Equestrian Therapy

The horse waits patiently for his groomer to arrive,

The groomer is a boy who is only age five,

He obediently picks up his bucket of tools,

Like school, he is following step-by-step rules,

He approaches his horse with new confidence he’s found,

As he places his tool bucket there on the ground,

He looks at the brushes & chooses the right one,

Taking circular motions, his work has begun,

Another brush he chooses, sweeping motions, side to side,

He proceeds to prepare for the upcoming ride,

With a hoof pick, he carefully cleans out each hoof,

If there's doubt he's improving, here is the proof,

It is hot, and it is smelly, a challenging battle,

But the boy is going to climb up into the saddle,

With reins in his hands, he commands his horse “Walk”,

Around the arena he goes, no more talk,

Clop CLOP-Clop CLOP, Clop CLOP-Clop CLOP,

Then “whoa” he exclaims when he wants him to stop,

The sound of hooves beating the ground is quite soothing,

Each lesson, his ability to ride is improving,

The sway of the gait, back and forth, smooth and flowing,

The young boy receives benefit without even knowing,

The horse’s strong back, up and down, is reassuring,

The boy’s fears and anxieties the horse now is curing,

Equestrian therapy is a fascinating art,

I am thankful the young boy I know can take part.

Tammy Harvey  written:  July 29, 2016

Broken ones

Looking for seashells is amazing; however, one day I thought about how all the broken ones were looked over by seekers looking for the whole perfect one.  It reminded me of how God seeks us, the broken ones, and makes us his treasure.

Seashells

Beautiful treasures wash endlessly onto the shoreline,

Bringing joy to those who seek to find a special one,

Sparkling discoveries in infinite colors,

Pile up on the sand in awesome wonder,

Seashells, crushing under people’s feet,

Those searching to find a shell that’s complete,

If God were looking, He would pass none by,

 Broken shells would be the apple of his eye.

The ones looked over by the rest,

are special treasures that God loves best,

He seeks to find the broken ones,

He finds treasure in everyone.

Tammy Harvey  

written:  6/10/2014

Special Delivery

Today is our middle son's 25th Birthday, and no better time than to announce that he and his wife are expecting a baby!!  The baby is due 1-7-2017- our first grandchild!! WOW.
They gave us the news in a very surprising way on Mother's Day.  This poem captures the awesome way they broke the news to us:

Surprise Gift

It was the day before Mother's Day 2016,
I was quite unsuspecting, if you know what I mean,
A small box appeared on the living room floor,
It had a balloon tied to it, but could there be more?
The whole family awaited; the excitement, it grew,
The tiny square box was something big, but who really knew?
So I untied the ribbon and opened the lid,
The note inside gave directions, which I promptly did,
It said, "Pop the balloon with this safety pin",
Which revealed another note hidden within,
That was the surprise, with what it did say,
As I read aloud, "Happy Grandmother's Day"!
My mouth flew open; I was really in shock,
As the screams from another (Danielle) could be heard down the block,
It's true, it's true; it really IS true,
We are going to have a grandchild, now that's something new!

Tammy Harvey  written:  May 8, 2016

 Ultrasound at 9 weeks:

          

Boys will be boys

My husband and I raised 3 sons and have many fond memories of the adventures of little boys as revealed in this poem:

Gonna Do It Anyway 

 

Superheroes, trucks and cars,

Wishing on the brightest stars,

Baseball glove, bat and ball,

Running, jumping…slipping, fall,

Scrape a knee, but that’s okay,

Gonna do it anyway,

Exploring backyards, collecting rocks,

Dressing self, but losing socks,

Catching frogs and lightening bugs,

Short on time, but giving hugs,

Scrape an elbow, but that’s okay,

Gonna do it anyway,

Riding bikes, skateboard and such,

Eating candy, way too much,

Splish, splash all around,

Bathtub water turning brown,

Make a bruise, but that’s okay,

 Gonna do it anyway.

Imagination is his fuel,

Not to mention, books & school,

He has a mind that’s quite made up,

Especially when he wants a pup,

“Please, please, please” you hear him cry,

You look at him and with a sigh,

“No” is what you want to say…

Gonna do it anyway!       

Tammy Harvey   written:  7-20-2015

This painting is a canvas by Rebecca Kinkead called Tailgate #9. 

I have it hanging in our foyer and am fond of this artist's work.

She did what?

My sister, my Mom and I have had a chuckle for years about our unforgettable experience with Mary Mills.  This is a true story about the day she invited us to her house for a spaghetti dinner.

The Unforgettable Meal with Mary Mills

"Come to dinner, I'll cook", Mary Mills once said,
"We'll have spaghetti, meatballs, and homemade bread",
"Alright", said my Mom,"we will come for your meal,
My girls and I are hungry, and that sounds like a deal",
So, we rode to her house and went right inside,
She had the table set and was beaming with pride,
She smiled at us happily as she scooped out our serving,
"You can have all you want; you are so deserving",
We ate and ate, but could not clean our big plate,
Mary Mills was not bothered, and she did not wait,
She took back our leftovers and like it or not,
She scraped them all back into her pot,
That's right, it is true; that's what she did,
I remember it well and I was a kid,
She was quite a nice hostess; she really was swell,
But had she eaten it before and just did not tell?
"Waste not, want not", I'm sure she would say,
But to her we just said, "We'll be on our way",
We think of her fondly, but laugh at her too,
That was a funny thing for Mary Mills to do!

Tammy Harvey  written:  5/8/2016