Whisper Goodbye

 Whisper Goodbye 

By Gina K Campbell 

12-31-2020

As the year takes the stage for its final bow

Let us whisper our goodbyes with reverence 

A moment of stillness & a measure of awe

As this time reaches its severance.

This year’s show may have been filled with pain

Disappointment headlining on the marquee

But perseverance & self reflection are the rising stars

Teaching us who we should be.

A new day may await us

But yesterday was our seminary-

A training ground for the roots of our souls

The lessons learned, discretionary.

Perhaps new life is promised

In the fresh-faced year we welcome

But it too will have its heartaches

Happiness will not be it’s only outcome.

Every moment we leave behind us

Every joy, every sting, every loss

Planted something deep within our soil

That we should not rush to toss.

So let us not push & shove this year away

Instead let it settle softly in our hearts

Its deathbed is our stepping stone

And we should embrace it as it departs.

"It Only Seems to Rain at Night"

A poem I wrote May 28, 2013...

It only seems to rain at night.
Fog in the morning;
Blue sky at noon;
The crash of thunder in the evening;
But cleansing rain?
It only seems to come at night.

The day is long and hot and dry.
The day is thirsty--
with a scratchy throat and a parched tongue.

But it only seems to rain at night.

The day is dirty; filthy from its toiling--
earth beneath its fingernails,
sweat stains on its shirt,
and secrets hidden in the folds of it skin.

But it only seems to rain at night.

My body is older.
My mind is weaker.
My soul shrivels in the noonday sun.
I long for rejuvenation.
I pant for refreshment.
I yearn to sprout, to bud and to blossom.

But whenever it rains--I am asleep
Because it only seems to rain at night.

A Touch of Christmas

"Christmas hath a beauty
Lovelier than the world can show:
For Christmas bringeth Jesus,
Brought for us so low."

-Christina Rossetti

Valentine's Day Poetry

A Valentine's Day Poem to my Husband

by Gina K. 

I started a love poem to you today

It was as purty as could be.

But I couldn't make it say

Just what you mean to me

and how special we are together.

It said that we are like a poem;

that we are like a song.

It told of how much love we share

and how our relationship is so strong

that it makes the angels sing.

Such cliche's are meant for Hallmark

so I knew it wasn't right.

A poem about us should be different

Quirky, unexpected and light.

So here's to us...

You are peanut butter.

I am jelly.

Together we make one hell of a sandwich.

Happy Valentine's Day, my love!  :)

"I sit beside the fire and think": Rereading 'Lord of the Rings'

I have been re-reading The Lord of the Rings trilogy this week and so have had the great themes that it holds heavy on my mind as of late...thoughts of great evil and great fear, of bravery & valor in times of doubt, of keeping faith when all that remains is but a fool's hope.  I have been pondering how I would stack up next to Frodo's determination, Sam's faithfulness, Gandolf's wisdom, Aragorn's leadership, and Pippin's resilience.  I have cried for them as they fight a seemingly hopeless fight, I have wept for them as they grow nearer & nearer to danger but go on because they must.  And my heart breaks because I know that while their journey is just a fantasy of words on a page...their story is full of truth.

For we too live in evil times but I fear that for the moment I am living on the fringe here in middle America just as the hobbit's were before they left the Shire...but evil will not always be far off and the day will come when I too am called to play a part in this tale. I know that each hour that passes brings us nearer to the end of this age...and while I do not grieve as one that has no hope,  I know that as the days grow darker it will be harder & harder to hold on to the hope that is within us.  But I know that even in the darkest hours Christ's purposes prevail and He will come out victorious.  It is just so hard in the meantime to keep from growing weary.  Just like the ring on Frodo's neck was a weight & burden he bore to the end not knowing whether his personal end be good or bad...the evil of this world (the violence, the sickness, the deceptions, the death)  is so often as heavy as lead on my shoulders and its power (if not kept in check by the Holy Word) wearies me considerably and I see how I could so easily despair of the journey to which God has appointed me and fall into despondency & apathetic behaviors just as Lord Denathor does in 'Return of the King'.

I pray that in the interim between the coming darkness & the Return of our king, Jesus Christ, that I would not lose sight of the part I have to play, that I would remain faithful to the end, that I would be able to discern between what is good & what is not, that I would cling to hope when all hope seems to be lost...that though a fool's hope it may seem, that I would remember that God uses the foolish things of this world to confound the wise...sometimes someone as unexpected as a small hobbit can be the very vessel needed to destroy the power of Sauron.

Bilbo's Song in Rivendell

I sit beside the fire and think
of all that I have seen,
of meadow-flowers and butterflies
in summers that have been;

Of yellow leaves and gossamer
in autumns that there were,
with morning mist and silver sun
and wind upon my hair.

I sit beside the fire and think
of how the world will be
when winter comes without a spring
that I shall ever see.

For still there are so many things
that I have never seen:
in every wood and every spring
there is a different green.

I sit beside the fire and think
of people long ago,
and people who will see a world
that I shall never know.

But all the while I sit and think
of times there were before,
I listen for returning feet
and voices at the door.

My latest poem..."Art"

Just so you all are warned...this is a lot more personal & risque then what I usually write & definitely more so than what I usually post on here.  It was inspired by Russ, the love of my life, and a line from "So I Married an Axe Murderer"  :) 


Art:  Ode to our love
by Gina K Campbell

Lying together, legs intertwined
I see us sketched in thick, black lines
Our figures painted rough & bold
Every curve in red and gold
Framed & hung upon a wall
Envied by lovers great & small

Everything we do is art

Your calloused hands run down my hip
Your ear hangs from my lower lip
You whisper sweet nothings in my ear
But poetry is what I hear
Our hearts beat out a symphony
As you speak these words to me

Everything we do is art

Our bodies express; our words inspire
Each glance we share invokes desire
A score is climaxed with each caress
A masterpiece and nothing less
We arouse respect, creating much
Transcend the senses when we touch

Everything we do is art

To my husband...

Russ—
Seven years ago,
I was giddy with joy at the prospect of being your wife.
And now today,
I marvel at how the years have made us more in sync.

Our love may be stronger
But our understanding has grown by leaps & bounds.
And what we may have lost in passion,
We have gained tenfold in appreciation & perceptiveness.

We are different in so many ways
But we share our lives in common
And our connection to each other is a bond that depends not on seeing eye-to-eye
But rather on caring enough about the other person to trust in spite of contrasting views.
I know we have the most significant things in common…
A love & commitment to each other & to family
and the same Heavenly Father guiding our lives for His greater purpose.

Jesus knew before we were even born that we would become a family together
And even in my fears & insecurities I can trust in that.
You have always been such a wonderful supporter of me
I pray that as we grow older & stronger together,
I will learn to cheer you on and be your greatest encourager as well.

You are indeed the “Love of my Life”
And though I may struggle & may fail…
I want you to know that I will stand with you when you need me most
And will follow your lead…wherever it may take us.

My love is unconditional…
Gina



No comments:

A Birthday Poem to my Mom

Dear Mom:

Today is your birthday...
and I love you.  I want to speak your love language so that you really 'hear' it.  I'd love to get you a really heartfelt, perfect gift but as Peter spoke in Acts so say I,  "Silver or gold I do not have, but what I have I give you." I have my words & my photos and so I am giving you a poem for your birthday...to show you that you mean a lot to me and that I love you and that I like you.

------------------

Legacy

All moms start out as little girls
With mommies of their own.
Quick to leave those moms behind
But not the seeds they've sown.

A woman's heart is full of seeds
Planted by her mother.
Yet when the fruit is full & ripe
They are harvested by another.

Mom looks at all the mistakes she's made
And she prays the fruit is good.
She wants her girl to realize

She did the best she could.

And that little girl who's all grown up
Longs for Mom to see
That the most fertile seeds she planted there
Have grown into a tree

The tree of goodness, faith & love
Is rooted deep inside her
To choke out all the grass & weeds
That battle to misguide her.

A Mother's love; the Love of Christ
That of sacrifice & care.
A daughter's love; what's to be said?
The two do not compare.

But when daughter becomes mother
Those seeds drop from the tree
And then that love is passed again
Mom's greatest legacy.

-By Gina  3/23/10

-------------------------------------
Happy Birthday, Mommy!  I love you!  Thanks for giving so much of yourself for me and planting good seeds in me so that I could grow to plant good seeds in my children.  You're special to me.  I hope you hear my heart.

There is just something about a book.

There is just something about a book
by Gina K.

There is just something about a book.

There is just something about the feel of a volume in my hand;
the way the spine is unyielding to my touch.
There is just something about the smell of its pages
and the potential of the words that fill that gap between the covers.
There is just something about how they gather in organized families on my shelves;
the way their bold titles entice my eye as I gaze upon them.

There is just something about the way they speak to me;
the way their phrases enchant my mind & tantalize my sensibilities.
There is just something about how they transform me;
how their conversations mold how I see myself & the world around me.
There is just something in the way their discourses lift me to other lands
and their accounts transport me to other times.

There is just something about a book.

----------------------------------------------------

I love to read. But more than that...I love books. While I would in no way consider myself a book-aholic, I certainly admit to being a bibliophile. I have a hard time parting with books...even if I've already read them...or even if I suspect I will never read them. My house is filled with books--books from my childhood, books from my college classes, books I got from bookstores, bookmooch & Goodwill. I love shopping for books at Goodwill because it gives me the opportunity to find & read books that I never would have found or purchased otherwise. When I lived in the city I used to love going to the library for this same reason but since moving to a more rural area (where the library selection is a bit more limited) I've found that Goodwill works better for me because I can take them all home right away and don't have to rush or stress over due dates. The problem with this is that unless I really hate the book, I can't bring myself to get rid of it. So the books keep piling up. Russ covered one whole wall in our basement with shelves and that was filled before the screws he used to put them up with had cooled. I recently informed him that we need more shelf space & he joked that every wall in the house could be lined with shelves and it still wouldn't be enough. While that is currently a gross exaggeration--I know that I can't go my whole life hanging on to every book that crosses my path or it may not be too far from the truth! However, for now, I am enjoying expanding my collection. So if you are ever are in need of a gift ideas or a place to send your strays--know that books are always welcome in my home. The ones that don't join the family will be traded on bookmooch for books that will join the family. There is no such thing as an unwanted book in this house. (We may have a problem finding a place for them to sleep, however. ;))

I'm rocking my baby 'cause babies don't keep

"The cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow
But children grow up as I've learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down cobwebs; Dust go to sleep!
I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep."

- Ruth Hulbert Hamilton

My "I Am" Poem

Back at the end of May my sister posted an "I Am" poem that she wrote for one of her classes and several of my family members followed suit. I tried to write one at the time, following the format given here but I just couldn't seem to finish. However after writing my last post, I took another crack at it and this is what came of it...

I Am
by Gina K.C.

I am imperfect but sincere in my trying.
I wonder if God ever gets tired of waiting for me to listen to His voice.
I hear the echo of my thousands of flaws;
I see them falling at my feet, building a wall between me & Him.
I want to close my ears & eyes tight and just curl up in His Large Daddy Lap.
I am imperfect but sincere in my trying.

I pretend to be righteous but know it's a lie.
I feel the tugging of doubt on my sleeves.
I touch the eternal with gloves on my hands.
I worry that my treasures are dust but still
I cry out to Him.
I am imperfect but sincere in my trying.

I understand that life is full of mysteries.
I say "I will walk by faith."
I dream of a day when I am free from my fear.
I try to rest in His promises;
I hope I don't forget how.
I am imperfect but sincere in my trying.

An Emily Dickenson Poem

In my early teen years I was a big fan of Emily Dickinson. I had memorized one of her poems for an assignment and I fell in love with the little hard cover book of her poetry that I had borrowed from the library. The brevity of her work & the high language, I suppose, also appealed to me even though, at the time, I mostly had no idea what any of them were about. I was feeling poetical this evening & decided to read some poetry for fun when I happened across this poem by Dickinson that I hadn't noticed before. The reason that it caught my attention tonight is that it contains within its few brief lines the names of both my children. As such I thought I'd make note of it here. Enjoy!

"Come slowly, Eden!

Lips unused to thee,

Bashful, sip thy jasmines,

As the fainting bee,

Reaching late his flower,

Round her chamber hums,

Counts his nectars--enters,

And is lost in balms!"

The Banana Poem

Since I feel I shouldn't go more than a couple of days without posting and I really can't think of anything to write about...I decided to post a random photo memory. I've been scanning a bunch of old photographs from my albums into my computer for usefulness & safe keeping. This particular photo was taken in 1994 when I was fourteen year old and is of my childhood best friend, Maria, holding a banana. But just not just ANY banana--this banana had a poem written on it.

She & I had hiked up one of the buttes that was near her home and there was a place at the top where people could leave comments. I decided to write a poem. When it was completed I wanted to bring a copy of the poem home with me but we didn't have any extra paper--all we had was our bag of snacks. Soooo...being the resourceful people that we are, we used what we had and wrote that poem on a banana! For those of you who are interested...the following is the poem that made its way to the world via that banana.

From the Mountain Top
(aka. 'The Banana Poem')

When up so high my mind so measures
How all our stuff, our earthly treasures
Are nothing like what God has made
Everything, that on earth he laid
The trees, the buttes, the sky so blue
Should mean so much to me and you
They are so lovely in their own way
I hope you realize that today
So stand up now and look around
Discover all that I've just found
How everything around this land
Was touched with love by God's great hand

by GKR-age 14

Poem: "Melancholy Moments"

One minute Writer & my mood this evening have inspired me to write a poem. Take it or leave it...it is what it is.

Melancholy Moments

Some days are filled with sadness
while others are filled with gladness.
But in those times between those two emotions
Lies life and all our complicated notions
of what it means to be human, what it means to be happy, and what it means to feel down.

It is within these times when melancholy moments rise
to show us that sometimes there is joy in the very act of being sad
and that sometimes our greatest insights are conceived
in those strange occasions of taking pleasure in our gloom.

Perhaps it is because, underneath it all,
in our hearts we understand how great our fall.
Maybe in melancholy moments it is best demonstrated
how our earthly souls were fated
to be redeemed.

We feel deeply and we feel conflicted
in our emotions and in our lives
because we know.

We know deep within ourselves
the truth of who we are and who we were meant to be.
We know that we are self-condemned prisoners
who were born to be free.
Our melancholy moments are an emotional sign
proclaiming a longing for our Daddy Divine.

So let us rejoice in these melancholy moments;
Let us revel in the insights that they bring;
For often the blessing of darkness
is that it reveals the light of the King.

by Gina K.
1/17/09