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With Tears

“Tears” by Jonathan McCallum


Tears pool, brim and flow onto hands that grasped liquid sweet moments.

Memories frozen into brilliant waterfall within.

Towards my soul’s canyon, your light pours in, revealing precious faces, kind eyes, little hands briefly held.

Traveling through childhood’s mist, middle life forest to foggy old age to reveal a distant eternal land.

With tears. Just seventy years?

Poem by Jonathan McCallum @peoplepoesia

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Get out the picture, blow off the dust

Take off the frame, it’s starting to rust

Remember the times that we had together

What happened to being best friends forever?


You don’t seem to notice, you don’t seem to care

You promise me something, and then you aren’t even there

You tell people my secrets; tell me your lies…

Who wants a friend… that makes you want to cry?


Life takes your dreams and turns them upside down

Friends talk about you when you’re not around

People make promises they just can’t keep

I’ve come to realize… talk is cheap


Some people don’t catch on, they rather just pretend.

While things are going smooth, they smile and call you ‘friend’.

Funny how you never know who cares until it hurts, and when it’s over,

Does it matter who blew off whom first?


I’ll never find another friend to take the place of you.

No one will ever touch my world exactly like you do.

No one who’s quite so thoughtful, no one I cherish so.

No one will mean so much to me I just wanted you to know.






I wrote this thinking about how I felt taking my new step to join a group of people I don’t know after my husband passed away.  In an effort to not stay in a small corner in the house I pushed myself into joining a social group and tonight is the first meeting…..


Blindly the layers of my existence are removed

leaving me exposed, one by one, taken away

Left only is a breath of pure honesty, fragile

whisper thin, cracks forming like spider webs

Reaching out to grasp at any solid hold it can

A dream of what is to be wraps around my body

and covers the naked fear of the unknown

Ashamed to bare the truth of what is below the surface

afraid to face the road that looms beyond the bend

Ignorant of the wonders once the veil is lifted




Tiny Kindnesses

There are people who have touched my life, though only passing through

Perhaps just for a moment, to exchange a smile or two

There was a light inside their eyes, that somehow drew me in

As they quickly walked into my life, then right back out again.


I recall sometimes those faces, even ones from long ago

Faces of dear people who I didn’t even know

Perhaps my heart was hurting from some deep and painful trial

When life was feeling cold and cruel, and I had lost my smile


I thank God for those people,  maybe angels here on earth

Who just with tiny kindnesses, gave hope in me new birth

If you wonder why I smile sometimes, though hurting deep within

Or why I’m often singing, as I don a silly grin


I want to be remembered, like those people I recall

Not because I’m special or my life is great at all

But because the mem’ries of those smiles don’t go away

They’re like the sun, illuminating clouds, so dark and grey


I’d rather be thought foolish for a smile upon my face

That maybe some would permanently wish they could erase

Because I know that someone, somewhere, many years from now

May pass that smile along to someone else, somewhere, somehow.


My Weekend Adventure….

There in the dark, pieces scattered around the garage, what was to be a project for my husband.  He never managed to find the time or the desire to start the project once it was taken apart.  Aged, no longer used, the parts rusted with time.  Tires in different corners of the garage, fenders hanging on the wall, the motor removed from the frame….. I went through the boxes and found as much as I could to bring some sort of vision together for my weekend adventure.  It was early morning when I started and by the end of the day there before me sat a ’56 or ’57 Francis Barnett motorcycle, (I’ll have to check the serial number for the exact year).  I’m sure I could hear the bike breathing, sighing, relieved that someone remembered she was there.  I looked out in the garage before I went to bed, and you know I almost felt like she was smiling at me, thanking me for bringing her parts back together that had been lost.  I know just how she feels, because in a way she did the same thing for me yesterday.


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