Their embrace
When I was a child I saw them embrace
standing still, holding close, arms wrapped around
face to face
eyes connected
giggles, coos and moans
smiles
warmth
light
gentle
no words
just a gentle sway
holding close
stealing the moment of the day.
-A poem about Joyce and Ron Harmon, mom and dad when I was a child. C.Gruman 2/8/15
Sunday, February 8, 2015
Monday, March 11, 2013
Truth and Rain
Truth and Rain
A poem by Cathy Gruman, 03/11/13 (updated 3/4/16)
First you were
then you weren't
then I thought you were
but you really weren’t
then you said you were
then I wasn’t sure
although you knew
you wouldn’t tell
so I kept on under your spell.
Then I suspected
but still didn’t know
so you let the lies grow and grow
and because of my heart
not too smart
when it comes to love
I acted stupid
that’s right
stupid;
a least favorite word of mine
but fit so well
under your spell
I felt stupid.
Then a light came
a glimmer of truth
dropped under my nose
and sent me in the right direction
and not much longer
out yonder
the truth
it grew and grew
and took a shape that I could finally see, believe and know
enough to finally leave.
Then the rain comes as it always seems to do when I am feeling the art of healing and freeing in my soul.
I love you rain, you help make me whole.
A poem by Cathy Gruman, 03/11/13 (updated 3/4/16)
First you were
then you weren't
then I thought you were
but you really weren’t
then you said you were
then I wasn’t sure
although you knew
you wouldn’t tell
so I kept on under your spell.
Then I suspected
but still didn’t know
so you let the lies grow and grow
and because of my heart
not too smart
when it comes to love
I acted stupid
that’s right
stupid;
a least favorite word of mine
but fit so well
under your spell
I felt stupid.
Then a light came
a glimmer of truth
dropped under my nose
and sent me in the right direction
and not much longer
out yonder
the truth
it grew and grew
and took a shape that I could finally see, believe and know
enough to finally leave.
Then the rain comes as it always seems to do when I am feeling the art of healing and freeing in my soul.
I love you rain, you help make me whole.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Days of snow (A poem by Cathy Gruman)
Sprinkle salt to melt the ice,
the north winds blow
and they cut through the air like knives.
A walk outside is desirable,
until I open the door and feel the punch of the unrelenting cold.
It continues for a while
making my head weary;
then temperatures rise
and the ground begins to melt.
Consistent days of sun invite the grass to peek through the white cover;
ice turns to slush, and one less layer is needed as I head up the hill.
(cg updated 3/4/16)
the north winds blow
and they cut through the air like knives.
A walk outside is desirable,
until I open the door and feel the punch of the unrelenting cold.
It continues for a while
making my head weary;
then temperatures rise
and the ground begins to melt.
Consistent days of sun invite the grass to peek through the white cover;
ice turns to slush, and one less layer is needed as I head up the hill.
(cg updated 3/4/16)
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Receiving (A Poem by Cathy Gruman)
No more a whisper,
an awkward name
in circles of disdain
rolling off lips
in criticism, praise, jokes
contrast and comparisons
seeming to know
Jesus
All mixed up
the good the bad
"sinners"
all of us the same
I wrestle with it all and resist others' call.
How I detest those who self appointment themselves with the task of sorting it out for the rest of us;
confusion, distance, self doubt, self hatred, paralysis,
we wonder where these come from.
I find joy in partaking of the gift that comes
from not knowing but receiving the gift of being.
an awkward name
in circles of disdain
rolling off lips
in criticism, praise, jokes
contrast and comparisons
seeming to know
Jesus
All mixed up
the good the bad
"sinners"
all of us the same
I wrestle with it all and resist others' call.
How I detest those who self appointment themselves with the task of sorting it out for the rest of us;
confusion, distance, self doubt, self hatred, paralysis,
we wonder where these come from.
I find joy in partaking of the gift that comes
from not knowing but receiving the gift of being.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Silliness (A poem by Cathy Gruman)
A joyful day involved silliness with people who let themselves be free and fun not being stifled by anyone.
Sharing of food and drinks and a bad but brilliant old school horror film in silent mode brought laughter and jokes and pokes.
The dogs ran free in the house and the humans sat on the couch.
Walking in the dark to the car elicited a blood curdling scream, screech and a gasp when the tree posed as a zombie from the very bad movie.
And we laughed almost all the way home.
Sharing of food and drinks and a bad but brilliant old school horror film in silent mode brought laughter and jokes and pokes.
The dogs ran free in the house and the humans sat on the couch.
Walking in the dark to the car elicited a blood curdling scream, screech and a gasp when the tree posed as a zombie from the very bad movie.
And we laughed almost all the way home.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
You, me and this (A poem by Cathy Gruman)
you be you and I'll be me
and we'll sort this thing out together
i'll try not to overlook your point of view
while attempting to express my own
i've already made a poor assumption
before we even begin
that we can promote our needs simultaneously
may one of us step back and allow the other to speak first?
and we'll sort this thing out together
i'll try not to overlook your point of view
while attempting to express my own
i've already made a poor assumption
before we even begin
that we can promote our needs simultaneously
may one of us step back and allow the other to speak first?
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