Lois Heaton Poetry Book

BOOK OF SELECTED POEMS

LOIS BOLIN HEATON

Published by Wishbone Press,
Gravette, Arkansas
wishbonepress@aol.com

Table of Contents:

Poems
A Long Time Ago
As I sit in my Chair
Blessings
Little Boys
Half Remembered Things
In the Middle of May
Let it be Known (tribute to Mary Kay Kelley)
Heaven Sent
Animals
Troubles with a Dark Cloud
Story of the Birds
The Bed
The Song I Sing
The Story
Wrinkles in my Face
The Old Lady
What Can Be Done?
Wishbone
Poets
Memorial Day
The Clutter Drawer
The Baby's Cry
Jewelry
Relatives
The Promise
Dr. David Tucker
Time ECC-12
Fame
The Cake
When I Was Young
If I Had Wings
Message from the Sun
Bread
In the Picture
My Dog Loves to Walk
Listening
My Broken Back
O, Jehovah
Today ? Tomorrow?

A LONG TIME AGO

Once upon a time, they say, long ago
As I listened to their story
I know that it's so
For I was really there,
A long time ago.

AS I SIT IN MY CHAIR

As I sit in my chair at the end of the day
I try to imagine my children at play.

Where have they gone in such a short while?
It's been a long time, I remember and smile.

Though time passes much too fast
The things we remember are the things that last.
And me?
I'm happy that things are as they should be.

BLESSINGS

Many stories have been told
About the young and the old.
Some make you laugh, some make you cry
So that is life, but I wonder why?

We have many blessings before us each day
The blessings we get from Jehovah above
The ones we receive embrace us with love.

We may not think at the time this is true
Even in discipline he says "I love you."

So, let's thank our Father above,
Again and again for all of his love.

LITTLE BOYS

Bounding before me
"Oh, look, look," said he.

I reacted in horror
As he danced with much glee.

On his little round freckled face
Big black spiders he'd placed.

Boy's greatest joy and satisfaction
Is to frighten small girls with such bold action.

Grownups, too, they keep in mind
It's so much fun, so much fun all of the time.

HALF-REMEMBERED THINGS

Half-remembered things of yesterday.
I can't remember what I wanted to say…
It's not essential to be said
But why can't I remember
What's still in my head?

When I was young I was always told.
'Forgetting things is a sign you are old.'

That can't be true, I tell myself
Then I look at a calendar up on the shelf…
It says it's the year two thousand and five…
I say "I've been around for eighty plus six, sakes alive!"

IN THE MIDDLE OF MAY

It all began in the middle of May
When all young things begin to play.
The agile young horses -- they race and they twirl,
They haven't a care, not one in this world.

The eager little bird on the side of the nest
Why can't we fly just like the rest?

And so they try so awkwardly and lo!
They fall on the ground…
They flap their wings
And they're flying around.

LET IT BE KNOWN

Dedicated to Mary Kay Kelley

If I were a poet and could write what I see,
I'd laud and praise everyone around me.

People of goodness I'd let it be known --
(They themselves never let it be shown--)
The hard work they do shows how they care
For you, me and others - all of us here.

Now wouldn't it be nice
If they could be thanked
not only once, but two times twice?

And… let's not take it for granted,
the things they have done
For tomorrow, you and I, we or they,
may not be under the sun.

So, ending now please let me say
There's one special one living today:
Bouquets of roses with hugs…
Hip, hip, and hooray:
To our very special merry, Mary Kay.

HEAVEN SENT

The house is so quiet
As I walk to the door
Someone lives here, that's for sure…

The door being open I could feel the cool air
And there before me was an old rocking chair.
And on it sat an old woman with a small dog at her feet
So deep in sleep were they
That I didn't have a word to say.

So I tiptoed away, and as I went
To be that contented had to be
Heaven sent.

ANIMALS

Most animals have four legs
And how they can jump and play

Here I stand with only two
And sometimes I know not what to do

With four legs how do they know
Which way to make them go?

If I had four and started in different directions
There would be a problem with my mid section

So let the animals have four
If they wish they could have more

What I have is so easy to do
My! I am glad I only have two.

THESE ARE THE THINGS

Horses, cats birds and even snakes
Any animal is all it takes.
It's their song, dance and maneuverability
Any attribute that makes them unique
These are the things about which poets speak.

They laud and praise them with affection
And their enthusiasm is a reflection
Of all the beauty we behold
So these are the stories we are told
From poets young and poets old.

TROUBLES WITH A DARK CLOUD

It's dark overhead covered with a dark cloud
The lightning flashes
And thunder is so loud.
To get rain this is how it will begin
The wind will blow and the trees will bend
The small animals begin to scurry
To get to a safe place in a hurry.

We need the rain so thankfully
Let it rain, let it pour
It will end momentarily.

STORY OF THE BIRDS

A tiny bird up in a tree
Above and below all he can see:
The sky above and the earth below
Everywhere a glorious show.

I wonder what he's thinking
As he looks down at me…
Do I look smaller when he's in a tree?

When he's down below, and I am there
He's sees giants and monsters every where.
But up in that tree,
what a safe place,
He's on guard
from the human race.

So away he flies to return again
That's my story of the birds, my friend.

THE BED

On my bed she lies like a log.
There's plenty of room, but she's such a hog…

Of her comfort she does insist
When I am tired and I need to rest
Is it the recliner or bed, which for me is the best?

My bed is a twin; so it is small;
But if she'd move over, she'd make room for us all.

She's sleeping so soundly, what should I do?
I am so tired and sleepy, too.

Oh, well…
She's only a dog…
If it makes her so happy
She can stay forever and sleep like a log.

THE SONG I SING

When I was young I loved to sing,
To belt out a song was a joyful thing.

I'd sing as I worked
And I'd sing at play.
That was the way I passed every day.

As time passed and older I grew
I soon forgot the songs that I knew.
And the voice I had…faded away.
So in place of song and voice
I raised a great family
So between the two, the last is my choice.

THE STORY

The story was long, it had much to tell
Of a small group who came here to dwell
The country was new, the way was rough,
It had to be strong; it had to be tough.

Some settled here, and others there,
The way they survived, they all had to share.

It's important to us how they worked and schemed,
For tomorrow, our lives will be today's theme.

So all together will be the way
Our differences will be
To teach us to work and how to play.

WRINKLES IN MY FACE

The wrinkles on my face
The bend in my back,
My shuffle of steps, my thoughts I lose track.
Things we have seen, things we have done
Packed in this body: we only have one.

It's hard to know to run or to play
And our thoughts, like butterflies,
fly away.

With so much within us, we really do care
With our stumbling and stammering
You're not even aware,
How much we love, and how much we care.

THE OLD LADY

We hear the story of the old lady who lived in a shoe
She had so many kids she'd not know what to do.

But there's another old lady who lives in the ground
Her brood is so numerous she lives in a mound
But this old lady knows what to do.

So different from the old lady in the shoe:
From morning 'til night all had work to do--
Some worked in the field
Some worked in the mound.

So, compare the old ladies, what would you say:
One or the other lived the right way?

WHAT CAN BE DONE?

With time on my hands, what can be done?
There're so many choices under the sun.
Some are beyond me
The young can do them; wait, you'll see.

Some times I do this, and again, I do that.
I have to keep busy, but look over there, I just sat.

Many things I have done, you'll never know
In farm life I learned how to cook and to sew.
Today is gone and when tomorrow has passed,
What can I do that will really last?

It's a surprise; you will see.

WISHBONE

There is a dog that lives where I do.
And I’m sure this may not interest you.
She is not too short and
She’s not real tall
She’s not real thin and
She’s not real fat.
She’s not all white and
She’s not all black.
In fact she’s a little of all that.
Black and white
Short and fat
This my story
It’s just that
She’s my pet—
Wishbone.

POETS

Horses, cats, birds and even snakes
Any animal is all it takes
It’s their song, dance and maneuverability
Any attribute that makes them unique
These are the things of which poets speak
They laud and praise them with affection
And their enthusiasm is a reflection
Of all the beauty we behold
So these are the stories we are told
From poets, young
And poets, old.

MEMORIAL DAY

When asked for a speech before a congregation
I was elated beyond imagination
Would I speak of the community or the styles of the day
Or our country at war? There’s so much to say.

My thoughts bubble over with an opportunity like this
There was no way I could make a miss
The time came and you know what
My mind went blank
What an embarrassing spot.

There I had nothing to say
So that was a most miserable day.

THE CLUTTER DRAWER

There’s a “clutter drawer”
At the bottom of my cabinet
I throw things there just from habit.

Where is yours -- in the attic?
In a box or in the basement behind who knows what?
We all seem to have one of those
I’m going to clean mine
It has to be done
I've intended to do this
For so long --

Then one day “that time” came
I looked inside and what did I see
I’ve looked for that gadget repeatedly.
And the one below it
And another I see
There’s not a useless one there
I could use this one
And I really need that, too,
Probably not today
Or maybe not soon,
So I’ll just clean this out another day.
Because today I don’t
Really have time --
That’s as good an excuse
As you or I could find.

THE BABY'S CRY

From the nursery
What was that?
Again, I hear it—it’s the baby
It’s not an angry cry
But one I know
It says “I need you so”
I pick her up and
That sweet baby smell
A scent I’ll always remember well.
So feeding and cleaning her
I put her to bed.
She wiggles and twists
To find her “security”
She then snuggles in her blanket
And goes sound asleep.
I wonder what dreams
She has in her dear little head.

JEWELRY

Rings on your fingers
Bells on your toes --
Today they wear them
In eyebrows or nose.

I love jewelry,
So what can I say?
With the jingle of my bracelets
You can hear me close and away.
Some prefer ear rings
Others the nose
With people so different
It’s the way it goes.

I would argue that my way is best
They may not agree, I confess
But what do they know?

I know. I best let it go.

RELATIVES

In all the world regardless where
We all have relatives of one kind or another.
To have relatives is a source of comfort for most --
If not, it’s a great and sorrow-filled loss.

Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers and on and on,
There’s a wealth of love to all that belong.

There’s another relative that most share
It’s our in-laws here, there, and every where.
I’m one of these and you may be too,
Some view “in-laws” as a different and foreign species.

The ones I have, and I hope yours too
All show love as much as these mentioned above
We may be different in some ways
But the capacity for affection is in us all
I love my in-laws and I hope they love me
That would make everyone oh so happy.
And that’s the way
It always should be.

THE PROMISE

We are here today
And gone tomorrow
But having true faith
We have no sorrow
For with tomorrow
We hope secure
We look forward
Without fear
That life everlasting
Is our reward
This promise is from
Our Savior,
Jesus Christ our Lord.

DR. DAVID TUCKER

I’ll tell you something
You may not believe
Doctors are people
Like you and me.
Now stop and think
That this is true
So we need to view
Them this way
And listen and do
What they say
And thank them
For doing such good
Without our doctors
What would we do?
To be truthful,
I haven’t a clue
So here’s to my doctor
To Dr. David Tucker
Goes my love and respect
But he deserves more
Than I can give
So from all his patients
And many it’s known
With all their love and respect
Our need for him needs to be shown.

TIME:...ECC-12

We enter an age
As the Bible foretells
We become like
Grasshoppers in a song
Where they drag
Their bodies along.

And the windows are
Cloudy and the
Bird songs are low
We never believed
We would grow this old.

When you are young
Time goes slow
But it quietly changes
And away it goes;
And before you know
It’s right before you --
Your mirror will tell you
Where you are --
But how in the world,
Did we come this far?

FAME

In a world of writing
Just over night you may become
Famous and the future looks bright.
But also in that same place
That bubble can burst
And you turn about face
So don’t put real trust
In a basket so frail
For sudden notoriety
Will soon drop and fail.

It is hard to know
What value is true
For real fame is
Hard to break through.
So be yourself and
If fame is your future
It will come to you and
You’ll be snug and secure.

THE CAKE

I’m going to make a cake,
And I can. I am sure.
Everywhere you look there are
Recipes galore.

I want this cake to be just mine
I’m positively sure it will be just fine.
So in goes a cup of butter or margarine--
This is going to be good, I say with a grin

It needs salt and sugar I guess that’s enough
Will 3 cups of flour make it too tough?
Now half a cup of vanilla and in the oven it goes.

The vanilla aroma really opens your nose --
After sixty minutes at 400 degrees
I can’t believe it: something went wrong
No cake today, what more can I say?

Tomorrow will be a more promising day.

WHEN I WAS YOUNG

When I was young
My greatest delight
Was to race a horse
With all of its might.

We’d jump over bushes, ditches and such.
My beautiful horse had that magic touch.
Now six decades later
Would you believe?
Just to straddle a horse
For me, no reprieve from the damage done in
Just that kind of action.
I walk with a cane
And am glad I can, today
Without harness or traction.

IF I HAD WINGS

A butterfly has such beautiful wings
And wings on a bird — watch them at play.
If I had wings, I would fly away
Above the clouds I would go,
And view the world far below.
The air up there is fresh and mild
I’d feel the innocence as a child.
It doesn't’t hurt to dream like that
In our polluted world, it helps us, to stand pat

MESSAGE FROM THE SUN

Hello, beautiful morning sun,
What secrets for the day are you hiding?
If I asked what’s in store for me
Would I be prying?
If I told you what I’d like to do
To be great or happy
Would you have an answer for me?
I know you’d say “You are free; so be honest and make the right choice”
And when night comes and there’s no sun --
I could say to myself
“This has been a day very well done.”

BREAD

The aroma of fresh bread right from the oven --
Your body reacts like the music of Beethoven
Why does this bread bring such delight?
Because it whets your very appetite.
Can you wait for dinner, lunch or whatever?
If such a small blessing can make your day
Why not view something else each day, this way?

IN THE PICTURE

I looked at a picture on the wall
There were mountains in it
And the trees so tall
The scene was very beautiful,
But that’s not all.
At the bottom, there are
Two covered wagons so small
Where were they going?
And did they get there?
Did they lose any of their loved ones?
Or any of their gear?
Their bravery made much of our
Country’s history
Where are they now, and could it be?
That some of us are part of these?
I’d like to know that somewhere in the past
That I had relatives in this class
But whoever they were
And whatever they went through
They deserve a big salute from me, and from you.

MY DOG LOVES TO WALK

All over the ground
She sniffs and sniffs all around
In hopes some treasure may be found
It could only be an old bone or a nut
That a forgetful squirrel
May have put
If only she could find any of these
For her efforts
She’d be so pleased
But day after day
Always the same
But to her it’s a completely
New game.

LISTENING

Listening to a poem that some people write
With thoughts so various and inspiring
With people with this insight can be so stirring.
To some of you it will strike a fine tuned instrument--
To others so full of sentiment and simplicity.
Can either bring tears or great joy.
Oh, to be a poet with their insight
What a great, great delight
To be able to see the good in all things:
As well we should.

MY BROKEN BACK

Upon my bed with a broken back
It’s an imperfect fate I have to attack.
I have had my milk
And cheese I adore
Where is the calcium
Did I need more?
Hindsight is what we do best
But at this time my mind demands rest.
The problem is that when I wake up
The damage is done, so here I lie looking around.
What to do now cannot be found.
To my relatives and friends and friends I can write
And the books I have longed to read. I could read into night --
And I promise myself I really just might.
So taking advantage of the time at hand

I’ll do these things soon, that I always have planned.

O, JEHOVAH

O, Jehovah, please
Be with me
I have fallen in a hole
A hole of old age
A hole of nothingness
In this system
I’ll never get out
But, O, Jehovah, in your time
You will lift me out
Then with all your children and creation
Then with song, praise and thanksgiving
For your Holy name
We will all
Happily shout His name.

TODAY? ... TOMORROW?

Do you ever accomplish anything tomorrow?
Tomorrow is the time for what we plan.
It is full of our hopes and dreams
Some we may realize- others we may scheme.
What matters most to us today is the time to see, to touch and to play..

Some may accomplish great things
That can ease pain and hardships away.
But yesterday has passed and gone,
Was it left with sorrow or song?

Or was it an example for others to follow
like a piece of cake that’s easy to swall

* * *

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