My Favorite Poem

a writing by Linda Bates Terrell

My favorite poem;

We all love poetry, reading and writing or we wouldn't be on this site.

When I was young I gave hazzard to the wind, I did what I had to, and always in hopes I'd win. Though day by day when my thoughts were weary I would ponder on word, but never gave serious thought or actally had time to assemble them to meet my hearts desire.
My great uncle passed away and left a few things to my mother, when my mother passed. One day I looked among the books. There it was, a poetry book. It was all mine and that made it a treasure I'd never known before. I actually owned my own poetry book. I thumbed through the pages. The poems were of major poets, and some of the pages worn, creased, and folded boldly.
I looked upon each word as I read it through. That was the moment that I knew. I was at heart in love with words. That is a passion some consider obsurd.

A few years later I had a day off, I went to a local auction sale and while looking all about I discovered in the old books they were tossing out a silvery colored book with blue binding. I opened it. The title said "LINES TO LIVE BY" Well, I turned a page or two, there in the front was an inscription in ink "To Grandma from John and Kathy at Christmas 1980."
I have no idea who this John and Kathy were. And I'm guessing this poetry book did not mean much to her or by chance he'd passed and it was something they discarded. It was in box of several and for the whole box it cost about .50 cent. Not much to anyone now days, but it made my day. On occasion, on night after I'd finished my tasks as I could I would sit to read this book. This was in 2003. I'd never written a poem before, or even wanted to actually write a book. There were many poems in it on all sorts of subjects. Poets like Shakespeare, Dickinson, Browning and others. Poems I'd always wanted to read but never had time before. Since my kids were grown I had time. I'd would crawl up in my recliner with a blanket, and a cup of hot chocolate and read from it. I was in such admiration of the poems, and poets too. I ran cross a poem I'd never read before. It is now what I consider to be my favorite poem. It was music to my ears. It was called;

Somebody's Mother
by Mary Dow Brine

The woman was old, and ragged, and gray,
And bent with the chill of the winter's day.
The street was wet with recent snow,
And the womans feet were aged and slow.

She stood at the cross and waited long,
Alone, uncared for, amid the throng.
Of human beings who passed her by,
Or heeded the glance of her anxious eye.

Down the street with laughter and shout,
Glad in the freedom of "school let out,"
Came the boys like a flock of sheep,
Hailing the snow piled white and deep.

Past the woman old and gray,
Hastened the children on their way,
Nor offered a helping hand to her,
So meek, so timid, afraid to stir,
Lest the carrige wheels or horses' feet,
Should crowd her down in the slippery street.

At last came one of the weary troop,
The gayest laddy of all the group;
He paused beside her and whistled low,
"I'll help you across if you wish to go."

He aged had on his strong young arm,
She placed, and so, without hurt or harm,
He guided her trembling feet along,
Proud that his own were firm and strong.

Then back again to his friends he went,
His young heart happy and well content.
"She's somebody's mother, boys, you know,
For all she's aged and poor and slow;

"And I hope some fellow will lend a hand
To help my mother, you understand,
If ever she's poor and old and gray,
"When her own boy is far away."

And "somebody's mother" bowed low her head,
In her home that night, and the prayer she said,
Was, "God to be kind to the noble boy,
Who is somebody's son andpride and joy."

By Mary Dow Brine

Now this poem is just words some would say, but to me, it was like a music to me that played. With each word I so soon adored. My heart knew just what was ment by the words this poet on paper had spent. And I felt sure to be blessed to be able to read this poem and to then rest.
Starting in 2008 I came upon this site. I decied to try to write a poem. Now I've written many many poems, over 500 presently, some are good some just words or lines. I've writen a two books, stories, even a few jokes on my facebook site. It is a passion I didn't know I had.
Now you can see why I always thank each of you in my own ways, by saying "Thank you for taking the time to read and comment on my poems." For our reading is a great skill we have and we should cherish it and help others to do the same. And thanks again for this site, Jeff and the Staff.

Linda Bates Terrell
17, 2011

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