Posts Tagged ‘Tanya Powell’

Beyond The Garden Gate


16 Apr

 

You closed the gate to your garden.

Where I used to play when it rained.

Over the years you let things die.

I’ll never see your flowers again.

The sunflowers don’t smile.

The ivy lies flat.

The grass has turned brown.

The weeds own the land.

Nothing can be saved.

You don’t care that it’s a grave.

Death hovers over the backyard.

Like the maple trees did.

Birds are too afraid to fly over.

A safe haven it no longer is.

You could bring it back to life.

But you won’t take the time.

You have better things to do.

You’d rather bitch and moan and whine.

Stop yelling at me and tend to your garden.

I’m all black and blue.

But the daisies don’t feel it.

You and the roses share one little trait.

Your tongue is so sharp,

It spits blood in my face.

You’re too ashamed for people to see it.

Everyone hates you anyway.

Why would they come to your front door?

You would just send them away.

If the garden was mine,

A miracle would take place.

I’d breathe life into it.

I’d put a smile on its face.

The grass would be greener

Than the ocean floor.

The pansies would laugh.

The air would smell good.

I’d open up the garden gate.

I’d dance in the rain.

Like all children should…..

Jeannie, Aged Eleven


17 Nov

 

Face of an angel.

Timid eyes of a deer.
A whisper like cotton.
A laugh that brings tears.
A strong aura you can see from afar.
A fragile life that can vanish
Like a shooting star.

If you make a wish,
I’ll make it come true.
Because my friend,
I so much love you.

Only a brutal twist of fate
Could tear our wishes apart.
Alas, little girl you were born
With a hole in your heart.

An unfair world full of chronic madness.
Deserving souls feeling ironic sadness.
One day you’re outside playing and laughing.
Then you’re in a cold, white room,
Crying and gasping.

Helpless parents in quiet hallways roam.
“Mommy, Daddy, I want to go home!”
“I promise dear it won’t be long.
Just rest your head down
While Mommy sings you a song.”
Daddy cries….Mommy prays.
“Dear Lord, bring us back
The good old days.”

Your sisters at home
Stare at your empty bed.
“God bring her home soon,” the older one said.
The middle child felt remorse and shame.
Never meant to tease you.
She’ll never be the same.

You’re feeling better.
Your doctors are too.
A welcome home party
Will be ready for you.
But home is not where you’re going.
Not the home you think.
For the angels have prepared a bed
Where you can peacefully sleep.

Your spirit remains strong,
But your body too weak.
Mom and Dad look at each other….
“Our future looks bleak.
Don’t let her see us cry…
Remain strong for our reason to live.”
“Mommy, Daddy,” you say.
“I have nothing more to give.”

Time to go.
Time to bid adieu.
From the center of my soul,
I will deeply miss you.

Mommy holds your hand,
As you hold the hand of death.
Before I can say goodbye…
You’re gone.
With the sound of a swan’s last breath.

There are no words.
Just make-believe smiles…
Wearisome chatter.
Silent tears…
Dreams shattered.

Where are you my friend?
Where did you go?
Why is this day of mourning
Going so slow?

Oh, there you are.
I can see you at last.
But this isn’t the face
I knew from the past.
Seeing you lying in a small, pink box
In a pretty white dress.
Is a sight that will for years
Cause me great distress.

Dead brown hair…
Translucent skin…
Somebody bring her back to life
With just one kiss.

No such luck.
You’re gone for good.
Can’t say goodbye.
I know I should.

Do you want to scream,
“Don’t leave me!” I wonder.
As they lower you six feet under?

As I walk away
I do not say goodbye.
For I know we will see each other
In the afterlife.

Watch over us as you wake up
With the morning dew.
Until then we will live our lives…

Without you….

-Tanya Powell

Dirty Old Box


14 Nov

Dirty old box.
Covered by times dust.
It sits in the corner of the room
That life forgot.

To open it up
May overwhelm the soul
With memories that died
So long ago.

Oily scent of leather.
An album that holds the secrets.
It says they’re still here.

Time to let the ghosts out.
Set the restless ones free.
Time to remember.

Sweet nostalgia of 70’s past
Help me close my eyes

And take me back.

-Tanya Powell

Sometimes I Hear Them


14 Nov

Sometimes I hear them,
In the middle of the night.
I turn on the lights.
I walk down a hallway
They’ve never been in.
Their voices have faded.
They never lived here.
They must have followed me.

I only see them in my dreams.
Can they ever see me?
If they can are they proud?
Do they know how happy I am
Without them?
Do they know why I feel so free?
Do they know how much I miss them?

I want them to know,
That the sun has found its way
Into my life.
I can walk outside
And not be afraid
Of the dark cloud that hung over our home.

Now I see a bright light.
Three beautiful rays of
Hope…happiness.. and love,
Make their way through the trees.
They touch the flowers.
They kiss the grass.
They have found a lost soul at last.

I feel the warmth on my face.
Along with a smile
That I thought had died.
I close my eyes and realize.
The rays are the spirits
Of the ones who left me.

They had died without saying goodbye.
I wondered where they were.
They’ve been here the whole time.
Giving me the sunshine
They were unable to give before.

I can see the blue skies.
So clear…so beautiful.
They took away the clouds.
They did all that for me.
Because at one time…

I was their sunshine.

 

-Tanya Powell

Sweet Candy


14 Nov

Born too soon
But never too late.
Fighting and screaming.
A miracle was made.

Strawberries and vanilla.
Swallowed up by a crib.
Blue eyes that light the sky.
A scared and delicate soul.

A two pound baby
That the angels want to hold.
They wanted her from the beginning.
Over the years they let her know.

Every day was a struggle.
A moment of peace between tears.
I’d hold her hand.
She’d close her eyes.
I’d give her a kiss.
She’d try to smile.

They would tug at her heart strings.
I held her as long as I could.
She’s mine!
She doesn’t belong to you!

Bring back her sight.
Bring back her mind.
Bring back her health.
Bring back her life.
Bring her back to me.
To let us live the way
It was meant to be.

Today I can only see her face.
In the tiny little frame.
That sits on top of the piano.
Wanting to come out to sit and play.

Yesterday she sat there.
Pounding notes that screamed
She was alive.
Tomorrow the notes will be silent.
We won’t hear music anymore.

But when the sun goes down
And it starts to rain.
I’ll sit on the piano bench
And she will be there.

My mother Candy….

As sweet as her name.

 

-Tanya Powell

Jeannie, 11


14 Nov

 

Face of an angel.
Timid eyes of a deer.
A whisper like cotton.
A laugh that brings tears.
A strong aura you can see from afar.
A fragile life that can vanish
Like a shooting star.

If you make a wish,
I’ll make it come true.
Because my friend,
I so much love you.

Only a brutal twist of fate
Could tear our wishes apart.
Alas, little girl you were born
With a hole in your heart.

An unfair world full of chronic madness.
Deserving souls feeling ironic sadness.
One day you’re outside playing and laughing.
Then you’re in a cold, white room,
Crying and gasping.

Helpless parents in quiet hallways roam.
“Mommy, Daddy, I want to go home!”
“I promise dear it won’t be long.
Just rest your head down
While Mommy sings you a song.”
Daddy cries….Mommy prays.
“Dear Lord, bring us back
The good old days.”

Your sisters at home
Stare at your empty bed.
“God bring her home soon,” the older one said.
The middle child felt remorse and shame.
Never meant to tease you.
She’ll never be the same.

You’re feeling better.
Your doctors are too.
A welcome home party
Will be ready for you.
But home is not where you’re going.
Not the home you think.
For the angels have prepared a bed
Where you can peacefully sleep.

Your spirit remains strong,
But your body too weak.
Mom and Dad look at each other….
“Our future looks bleak.
Don’t let her see us cry…
Remain strong for our reason to live.”
“Mommy, Daddy,” you say.
“I have nothing more to give.”

Time to go.
Time to bid adieu.
From the center of my soul,
I will deeply miss you.

Mommy holds your hand,
As you hold the hand of death.
Before I can say goodbye…
You’re gone.
With the sound of a swan’s last breath.

There are no words.
Just make-believe smiles…
Wearisome chatter.
Silent tears…
Dreams shattered.

Where are you my friend?
Where did you go?
Why is this day of mourning
Going so slow?

Oh, there you are.
I can see you at last.
But this isn’t the face
I knew from the past.
Seeing you lying in a small, pink box
In a pretty white dress.
Is a sight that will for years
Cause me great distress.

Dead brown hair…
Translucent skin…
Somebody bring her back to life
With just one kiss.

No such luck.
You’re gone for good.
Can’t say goodbye.
I know I should.

Do you want to scream,
“Don’t leave me!” I wonder.
As they lower you six feet under?

As I walk away
I do not say goodbye.
For I know we will see each other
In the afterlife.

Watch over us as you wake up
With the morning dew.
Until then we will live our lives…

Without you….

Tanya Powell

This was inspired by the death of my good friend Jeannie…she was only 11.

Do you hear the crickets yet?


14 Nov

Do you hear the crickets yet?
I long to hear their song.
They let me know
When it’s time to dream.
To forget the day.
To remember yesterday.

Tomorrow hasn’t happened yet
And I don’t want it to.
Glued to the rocker
On my front porch.
Gazing across the yard.
Oh what beautiful ivy,
It’s seen alot.
The air so still.
The branches don’t move.
Neighbors so quiet,
Are they still there?

Just me alone.
So much better this way.
The clock may have stopped
For the crickets and me.
Now is the time
To numb the pain
Of a bankrupt life
That was filled with
Disillusion and lies.

Tried to be invisible
But those skeletons
Always lured me toward the light
Where they all could see me
Trembling with fury
After the salt dried on my cheeks.
No more
No more.
On this July evening

There will be a fleeting hush
To the nightmare I endured
When the crickets hypnotize me
And put me in a merciless sleep
With their lullaby.

-Tanya Powell


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