A poem for Amber

A poem for Amber
27 November 2012

I don’t know the first thing about poetry.  Not at all.  I am not clever enough to look for the hidden and deeper meaning.  I tend to read poems at face value and to be honest, I can’t recall reading very many after being forced to do just that when I was still at school as well as a bit during my first year at Varsity.

Inevitably we’d have a teacher at the front of the class, droning on and on about the depth, the interpretation, the parallels, etc.  It all basically meant nothing to me.  And before each exam or test, I would read the poem yet again and then study the notes given to us by our teacher.  And marvel once more at the difference between the written words of the poem on the page right in front of the me and the depths it actually revealed as described by my teacher.  Depths I felt sure were hidden from most.  A mystery to many.

So, given my very basic skills and probably ignorance when it comes to things of this nature, I’ve quite accidently written two poems myself.  All very basic indeed.  The words are exactly what they mean.  No hidden meaning.  No depth.  No secret code.  No parallels.  Just pretty, beautiful, sometimes simple words.  Words that appealed to me at a particular time.  Most often they rhyme because I like the sound of it, and the sense of rhythm it evokes and the symmetry it lends. 

As such, I present one poem, written when my little Berry was only a few weeks old.  By the way, the other was posted a few months ago, and was written for Luke and Amber when they were still rather small.  It is called “Two little children”.

This one is just,

 

A poem for Amber

Her baby’s breath

So soft and sweet

Her tiny hands

Her perfect feet

Her deep and trusting

Knowing eyes

See through my soul

Look past disguise

From her my secrets

I could not hide

 My life an open book

Heart locked on hers forever more

 

A perfect little song we’ll sing

Soft and gentle like a flapping wing

 

A dream made real

My heart’s true love

Blissful love souls intertwined

 

So, as you can see, the poem thing is not really a happening thing for me.  But limericks – that’s an entirely different matter altogether.  I can whip up one of those in seconds.  Yet again no skills involved and they’re not particularly good, but they’re just such fun.  There is a pattern to creating them after all, like a little recipe.  So given that, I give to you

  

There once was a girl called Helene

Whose dream was to blog like a Queen

She wrote every day

To her husband’s dismay

Perhaps one day she’ll be in a magazine

 

She had heap loads of fun

Felt like the magic had just begun

Ideas for clever stories

She kept in inventories

And let her imagination just run

 

 

Creating word weaving was a joy

Almost like playing with a new toy

She’d move them all around

Until word magic would abound

Would anyone like her in their employ?

 

 

It took quite a bit of time

But the good feelings were sublime

The emotions were great

The satisfaction would elate

Like her heart gave a little happy chime