A few months ago my hubby wrote several poems for the first time ever. I decided to take one he wrote focusing on his childhood and frame it with some photos that went with it for a birthday gift for him.
Here is a copy of his poem for anyone interested:
What if somewhere else I had been chose to live; what if some other family God said to them, Michael I give.
I would have never got to feel my Grandma’s beads; never would I have found where the creek in Solo leads.
Never would I have held my Grandpa’s rough hand; nor been raised in the Ozarks, this wonderful, beautiful land.
To have never carved homemade butter out of my Grandma’s bowl; or caught sun perch in a creek with a cane pole.
To have not been allowed to check the cows with my Grandpa; or heard in the crisp fall air, the echo of a chain saw.
How sad to have never slid in Grandma’s kitchen in my socks; to put a cow back in the pasture with a fistful of rocks.
Is that a crane, a stork, no I think it’s a blue heron; what if we had never found out, me and my cousin Theron?
What if I had never seen a herd of jerseys in a green pasture; or had Mom buy me shoes at Bennett’s so I could run faster.
To have never been pinched by a crawdad, that would not be fun; or to have never watched my uncles sight in a new gun.
Not to have been at my Grandpa’s to hear the weaned calves bawl; to not have seen my breath in the Ozarks late fall.
To have never slammed a truck door and hear an owl talk back, or walk to Grandma’s for an afternoon snack.
What if I had not walked with Mom and my brother down our dirt road; or to see if you would really get warts from a horn toad?
To not have stood in the seat and watched my Dad cut wood; or to have walked on top of pop bottles just to show them I could!
To have never been allowed to play in this wildlife park; or heard a horn honk and to see there goes Jimmy Clark.
To not have had my Grandma for a Sunday school teacher; or not have been baptized in a creek by Bob White, the preacher.
What if I had not played “Mother May I?” outside with my cousins; or run down the corn rows and get cuts by the dozens.
To have never used a walnut to bring my brother out of a tree; or leaped out of the hayloft and landed on my knee.
What if I had not been invited to feed the cows hay; or not seen these hills come alive in the month of May.
Not to have witnessed firsthand a whitetail on the run; or to have never raced home, hoping to yell “We won!”.
To have not seen my Aunt’s horses, their tails a swishing; or looked through the winter storm and seen Jim Blankenship ice fishing.
Never to have chased a scared possum into a log; or been taught by Grandpa how to scald and scrape a hog.
To have never seen a row of young turkeys with the hen in the lead; or went with my Grandpa to MFA, oh, to smell that new feed.
To knock a gobbler to the ground with my Dad’s 12 gauge full choke; or to never see a frosty Missouri morning, the valleys full of wood smoke.
To have never paddled Piney River in a canoe my Dad bought for me; to look at a Jones Reunion photo, and no Michael I see.
To have not been the oldest of six, and watched four of them grow up; yes, I lost a little sister when I was just a pup.
I am no poet or writer, nor do I want to be; it’s just God said I have some things inside that need to be set free.
I am not educated with big words, not even in part; but what I have told you is real, and it’s what is in my heart.
After deep thought on where I have come from and where I have been, I wouldn’t trade with anybody, not for all the money times ten.
Would I do things different? You bet I would, I’d love them all with all the love that I could!
Michael Everett Jones
Date: Monday, December 17, 2007 GMT Views: 1530