Poetry for Marietta

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Edgar A. Guest By Edgar A. Guest more Edgar A. Guest    

It takes a heap o' livin' in a house t' make it home,
A heap o' sun an' shadder, an' ye sometimes have t' roam
Afore ye really 'preciate the things ye lef' behind,
An' hunger fer 'em somehow, with 'em allus on yer mind.
It don't make any differunce how rich ye get t' be,
How much yer chairs an' tables cost, how great yer luxury;
It ain't home t' ye, though it be the palace of a king,
Until somehow yer soul is sort o' wrapped round everything.

Home ain't a place that gold can buy or get up in a minute;
Afore it's home there's got t' be a heap o' livin' in it;
Within the walls there's got t' be some babies born, and then
Right there ye've got t' bring 'em up t' women good, an' men;
And gradjerly as time goes on, ye find ye wouldn't part
With anything they ever used — they've grown into yer heart:
The old high chairs, the playthings, too, the little shoes they wore
Ye hoard; an' if ye could ye'd keep the thumb-marks on the door.

Ye've got t' weep t' make it home, ye've got t' sit an' sigh
An' watch beside a loved one's bed, an' know that Death is nigh;
An' in the stillness o' the night t' see Death's angel come,
An' close the eyes o' her that smiled, an' leave her sweet voice dumb.
Fer these are scenes that grip the heart, an' when yer tears are dried,
Ye find the home is dearer than it was, an' sanctified;
An' tuggin' at ye always are the pleasant memories
o' her that was an' is no more—ye can't escape from these.

Ye've got t' sing an' dance fer years, ye've got t' romp an' play,
An' learn t' love the things ye have by usin' 'em each day;
Even the roses 'round the porch must blossom year by year
Afore they 'come a part o' ye, suggestin' someone dear
Who used t' love 'em long ago, an' trained 'em jes t' run
The way they do, so's they would get the early mornin' sun;
Ye've got t' love each brick an' stone from cellar up t' dome:
It takes a heap o' livin' in a house t' make it home.


What I Would Do For You

© Jayne Sena more by Jayne Sena   

Published by Family Friend Poems September 2006 with permission of the Author.

I would do just about anything you'd ask,
For you, there's nothing I wouldn't do; there's no such task.

I would walk without my shoes to the end of the Earth.
I would give up anything I had to, to teach you self-worth.

I would hold your hand every minute of every day,
But I won't because I know you need to find your own way.

I would surely bear the heartache of your first love that's real,
Even though I can't, I will naturally feel as you feel.

I would sell my soul if it would keep you happy forever,
I would give my right arm to keep us forever together.

I would run a hundred miles up-hill in the rain,
Just to guarantee that you will never feel pain.

I would laugh with you even if I were sad.
I will give you a smile even if I'm mad.

I can only accept your mistakes with a grin on my face.
I will guide you in correcting them but at your own pace.

I will guide you through life, as this world can get quite wild.
Just don't you ever forget that you will always be my child.


Jayne Sena. "What I Would Do For You." Family Friend Poems, September 11, 2006. https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/mother-to-child-poem-what-i-would-do-for-you

How Grateful I Would Be To Have Just One More Day

Kathy J. Parenteau © Kathy J. Parenteau more by Kathy J. Parenteau   

Published by Family Friend Poems December 2013 with permission of the Author.

If I could have just one more day and
wishes did come true,
I'd spend every glorious moment
side by side with you.
Recalling all the years we shared
and memories we made,
how grateful I would be
to have just one more day.
Where the tears I've shed are
not in vain and only fall in bliss.
So many things I'd let you know
about the days you've missed.
I wouldn't have to make pretend
you never went away.
How grateful I would be to
have just one more day.
When that day came to a close
and the sun began to set,
a million times I'd let you know
I never will forget
the heart of gold you left behind
when you entered Heaven's gate.
How grateful I would be to
have just one more day.


Kathy J. Parenteau. "How Grateful I Would Be To Have Just One More Day." Family Friend Poems, December 23, 2013. https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/how-grateful-i-would-be-to-have-just-one-more-day

Although You're Gone

© Shannon Walker

Published by Family Friend Poems August 2015 with permission of the Author.

Although you're gone, I'm not alone,
And never shall I be,
For the precious memories of the bond we shared
Will never depart from me.

Our love surpassed the ups and downs
And helped us along the way,
And that same love will give me strength
To manage this loss each day.

On my mind and in my heart,
Mom, you shall forever be,
For just as much as I am a part of you,
You are a part of me!


Shannon Walker. "Although You're Gone." Family Friend Poems, August 6, 2015. https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/although-you-re-gone

How Grateful I Would Be To Have Just One More Day

© Kathy J. Parenteau more by Kathy J. Parenteau

Published by Family Friend Poems December 2013 with permission of the Author.

If I could have just one more day and
wishes did come true,
I'd spend every glorious moment
side by side with you.
Recalling all the years we shared
and memories we made,
how grateful I would be
to have just one more day.
Where the tears I've shed are
not in vain and only fall in bliss.
So many things I'd let you know
about the days you've missed.
I wouldn't have to make pretend
you never went away.
How grateful I would be to
have just one more day.
When that day came to a close
and the sun began to set,
a million times I'd let you know
I never will forget
the heart of gold you left behind
when you entered Heaven's gate.
How grateful I would be to
have just one more day.

Kathy J. Parenteau. "How Grateful I Would Be To Have Just One More Day." Family Friend Poems, December 23, 2013. https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/how-grateful-i-would-be-to-have-just-one-more-day

Home

By Edgar A. Guest more Edgar A. Guest

It takes a heap o' livin' in a house t' make it home,
A heap o' sun an' shadder, an' ye sometimes have t' roam
Afore ye really 'preciate the things ye lef' behind,
An' hunger fer 'em somehow, with 'em allus on yer mind.
It don't make any differunce how rich ye get t' be,
How much yer chairs an' tables cost, how great yer luxury;
It ain't home t' ye, though it be the palace of a king,
Until somehow yer soul is sort o' wrapped round everything.

Home ain't a place that gold can buy or get up in a minute;
Afore it's home there's got t' be a heap o' livin' in it;
Within the walls there's got t' be some babies born, and then
Right there ye've got t' bring 'em up t' women good, an' men;
And gradjerly as time goes on, ye find ye wouldn't part
With anything they ever used — they've grown into yer heart:
The old high chairs, the playthings, too, the little shoes they wore
Ye hoard; an' if ye could ye'd keep the thumb-marks on the door.

Ye've got t' weep t' make it home, ye've got t' sit an' sigh
An' watch beside a loved one's bed, an' know that Death is nigh;
An' in the stillness o' the night t' see Death's angel come,
An' close the eyes o' her that smiled, an' leave her sweet voice dumb.
Fer these are scenes that grip the heart, an' when yer tears are dried,
Ye find the home is dearer than it was, an' sanctified;
An' tuggin' at ye always are the pleasant memories
o' her that was an' is no more—ye can't escape from these.

Ye've got t' sing an' dance fer years, ye've got t' romp an' play,
An' learn t' love the things ye have by usin' 'em each day;
Even the roses 'round the porch must blossom year by year
Afore they 'come a part o' ye, suggestin' someone dear
Who used t' love 'em long ago, an' trained 'em jes t' run
The way they do, so's they would get the early mornin' sun;
Ye've got t' love each brick an' stone from cellar up t' dome:
It takes a heap o' livin' in a house t' make it home.

Edgar A. Guest. "Home." Family Friend Poems, https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/home-by-edgar-albert-guest

Home

By Edgar A. Guest more Edgar A. Guest

It takes a heap o' livin' in a house t' make it home,
A heap o' sun an' shadder, an' ye sometimes have t' roam
Afore ye really 'preciate the things ye lef' behind,
An' hunger fer 'em somehow, with 'em allus on yer mind.
It don't make any differunce how rich ye get t' be,
How much yer chairs an' tables cost, how great yer luxury;
It ain't home t' ye, though it be the palace of a king,
Until somehow yer soul is sort o' wrapped round everything.

Home ain't a place that gold can buy or get up in a minute;
Afore it's home there's got t' be a heap o' livin' in it;
Within the walls there's got t' be some babies born, and then
Right there ye've got t' bring 'em up t' women good, an' men;
And gradjerly as time goes on, ye find ye wouldn't part
With anything they ever used — they've grown into yer heart:
The old high chairs, the playthings, too, the little shoes they wore
Ye hoard; an' if ye could ye'd keep the thumb-marks on the door.

Ye've got t' weep t' make it home, ye've got t' sit an' sigh
An' watch beside a loved one's bed, an' know that Death is nigh;
An' in the stillness o' the night t' see Death's angel come,
An' close the eyes o' her that smiled, an' leave her sweet voice dumb.
Fer these are scenes that grip the heart, an' when yer tears are dried,
Ye find the home is dearer than it was, an' sanctified;
An' tuggin' at ye always are the pleasant memories
o' her that was an' is no more—ye can't escape from these.

Ye've got t' sing an' dance fer years, ye've got t' romp an' play,
An' learn t' love the things ye have by usin' 'em each day;
Even the roses 'round the porch must blossom year by year
Afore they 'come a part o' ye, suggestin' someone dear
Who used t' love 'em long ago, an' trained 'em jes t' run
The way they do, so's they would get the early mornin' sun;
Ye've got t' love each brick an' stone from cellar up t' dome:
It takes a heap o' livin' in a house t' make it home.

Edgar A. Guest. "Home." Family Friend Poems, https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/home-by-edgar-albert-guest

Home

By Edgar A. Guest more Edgar A. Guest

It takes a heap o' livin' in a house t' make it home,
A heap o' sun an' shadder, an' ye sometimes have t' roam
Afore ye really 'preciate the things ye lef' behind,
An' hunger fer 'em somehow, with 'em allus on yer mind.
It don't make any differunce how rich ye get t' be,
How much yer chairs an' tables cost, how great yer luxury;
It ain't home t' ye, though it be the palace of a king,
Until somehow yer soul is sort o' wrapped round everything.

Home ain't a place that gold can buy or get up in a minute;
Afore it's home there's got t' be a heap o' livin' in it;
Within the walls there's got t' be some babies born, and then
Right there ye've got t' bring 'em up t' women good, an' men;
And gradjerly as time goes on, ye find ye wouldn't part
With anything they ever used — they've grown into yer heart:
The old high chairs, the playthings, too, the little shoes they wore
Ye hoard; an' if ye could ye'd keep the thumb-marks on the door.

Ye've got t' weep t' make it home, ye've got t' sit an' sigh
An' watch beside a loved one's bed, an' know that Death is nigh;
An' in the stillness o' the night t' see Death's angel come,
An' close the eyes o' her that smiled, an' leave her sweet voice dumb.
Fer these are scenes that grip the heart, an' when yer tears are dried,
Ye find the home is dearer than it was, an' sanctified;
An' tuggin' at ye always are the pleasant memories
o' her that was an' is no more—ye can't escape from these.

Ye've got t' sing an' dance fer years, ye've got t' romp an' play,
An' learn t' love the things ye have by usin' 'em each day;
Even the roses 'round the porch must blossom year by year
Afore they 'come a part o' ye, suggestin' someone dear
Who used t' love 'em long ago, an' trained 'em jes t' run
The way they do, so's they would get the early mornin' sun;
Ye've got t' love each brick an' stone from cellar up t' dome:
It takes a heap o' livin' in a house t' make it home.

Edgar A. Guest. "Home." Family Friend Poems, https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/home-by-edgar-albert-guest