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MORE POETRY BY MARIANE HOLBROOK
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And More Poetry ~ (M-Z)
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Denotes Humor

A BRAIN FULL OF TRIVIA
by Mariane Holbrook
When I am gone, when I am dead, They’re going to open
up my head And find it full of trivia Like, “quince
grows in Bolivia.”
And doctors will be so impressed At how much knowledge
I possessed. They’ll ooh and aah and wonder why Such
wisdom rests in such as I.
They’ll peer inside my fertile brain And try their best
to ascertain What methods they should now employ So
that this gem they don’t destroy.
They’ll learn that cats have 30 teeth, That fish spawn
in a coral reef, Men hiccup more than women do,
Ammoniums are in shampoo.
More women pay the household bills, More men forget to
take their pills, Most women lie about their age And
most men have a tire gauge.
The pigs killed off the dodo bird And if you think that
that’s absurd; More women have a double chin, Most
household dust is human skin.
So, stick around, for some fine day You’ll likely hear
a doctor say, “Her brain is such a rarity, Lets keep
it for posterity.”
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A HEAVENLY SURPRISE
One afternoon in heaven I'll be walking near a stream.
I'll wonder if such beauty could be nothing but a dream.
I'll sit alone and ponder all that God provided me To
make this lovely place my home for all eternity.
I'll lie back on the lush, green grass and close my eyes to
rest When something leaps into the air and lands upon my
chest Before I utter any words to cry out "What is THAT?"
A furry feline finds its voice and says, "I'm Missy Cat."
"I never got to meet you when we lived on earth below.
I wanted to be with you now so you would finally know
How much I loved the things you wrote about a cat like me
And how you showed such love for someone we both know as
Dee.
So now that we're together, will you let me live with you?
I know you have some puppies here, but none of them can
"mew." I only need a place until St. Peter calls to me:
"Hey, Missy Cat, someone is here. She says her name is
"Dee."
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A TRIBUTE TO RICHARD HEDRICK
by Mariane Holbrook
Richard was a carpenter, Much like the One who long ago
Used His hands to build and to repair, To provide for
His family, To work among His friends, Earning a
reputation as a just and good man.
Richard was a gentle man, Much like the One who long
ago Pulled the children to His side, Telling them of
His Father’s love, Making them laugh, watching them play,
Sharing their joy.
Richard was a kind man, Much like the One who long ago
Visited the sick, comforted the weary, Fed the hungry
from the bounty of the earth, Laughed with those who
laughed, And wept with those who wept.
Richard was a loving man, Much like the One who long
ago Delighted in His earthly family, Telling them
often of His love for them, Caring for the woman nearest
to Him, Holding those dear to Him close to His breast.
Richard is now a perfect man, Just like the One who
long ago Promised that Richard would, just as He,
Leave this present world, No longer a carpenter or
apprentice But at last a Master Craftsman.
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 ALL
ALONE
by Mariane Holbrook
Why do I feel so all alone Among the crowds When
you are gone?
There’re people all around me here But I ache inside;
I want you near. I need you, dear.
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THE APPLE TREE BY THE ROAD
by Mariane Holbrook
I wonder who the person was Who felled that apple tree.
Did he not know how much it meant To one small girl
like me?
Across the road at Grandma’s house An apple tree stood
there. The fruit was red and yellow striped; A
specimen so rare.
Did he just think that gnarled tree Was dead, exposing
root? Did he not know seed catalogs Don’t list this
rare, old fruit?
To spare the tree, I wonder if He even cared or tried.
But when I saw that tree was gone, I bowed my head and
cried.
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BEACH WALK
by Mariane Holbrook
I walk the quiet beach alone And see the gulls
above. I listen to their plaintive cry And think
of you, my love.
The setting sun has cast its glow Of soft magenta hue.
I look across the breaking waves And long to be with
you.
I see your face where’ere I go, I feel your presence
near. I long to hold you close to me And say “I love
you, dear.”
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BILLY SPENCER’S KISS
by Mariane Holbrook
Of all my childhood mem’ries That fill my heart with
bliss, The one that thrilled me most of all Was Billy
Spencer’s kiss.
We sang duets together And made a pleasant sound;
Miss Rumsey was our teacher then And took us all
around.
One day he came to see me When school had been
dismissed; We sneaked into the living room And was I
ever kissed.
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CLASS REUNIONS
Don't go to class reunions, you'll be sorry if you do;
The sunny mood that you've been in will suddenly turn
blue. What happened to that beauty queen who made the
fellows stare? She's gained an extra hundred pounds, and
look at her pink hair!
The handsome football captain's out of shape and has a
limp. He used to flex his muscles but has turned into a
wimp. The red-haired girl I envied so keeps pulling at her
ears Her hearing aid keeps screeching and she's fighting
back the tears.
Just look at Billy Jones, the boy I used to dream about;
I wouldn't say he's fat but why's his stomach hanging out?
The girl we dubbed "The Fashion Plate" now buys her
clothes at Sears. The rich boy that she married has been
gone for many years.
I can't believe how Sally looks, she used to be so vain.
And look at Susie Murphy, she's the one we called "The
Brain." That handsome dog they're gathering round, and
hanging on each word, That CAN'T be Kenny Stevens who was
always such a nerd.
I look around the room and think there must be some
mistake; This has to be a nightmare, one from which I'll
soon awake. These people are their grandmas, can't you see
how much they've aged? This party was a joke they played;
the whole thing was just staged.
I turn and walk out through the door before I say goodbye,
But then I see a mirror and I heave a mighty sigh. I
know that I belong with them, acknowledge time had passed,
I rush back in and join the crowd and do we have a blast!
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COASTAL REINCARNATION
by Mariane Holbrook
I’m NOT into reincarnation; My Bible says it’s not
true. I think when you die Your spirit will fly To
somewhere prepared just for you.
But sometimes I look at the seagull; Its breast is as
white as the snow. It soars and it glides, Unaware of
the tides Or the billowing waves down below.
I doubt I’ll be reincarnated. But sometimes I wish that
I might . No question ‘bout me; A seagull I’d be
And join in their glorious flight.
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DADDY
by Mariane Holbrook
I need to go back to that valley, To Waverly, Athens
and Sayre. I need to walk back to my dear father’s grave
And quietly think of him there.
I remember his love for his Bible; The hundreds of
verses he knew. You’d ask for a verse and he’d give you
the one Before it and after it, too.
One day as we sat on the glider Reflecting back over
his life, He hugged me and said, “I am blessed beyond
words With my seven great kids and my wife.”
No man was more widely respected; His counsel was
sought by all men. His life was consistent with all that
he taught And he proved it again and again.
It’s painful to write of my father; Few earthly
possessions he had. And now that I’m older, his life seems
so short - Will I ever stop missing my dad?
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DON’T DIG MY GRAVE
by Mariane Holbrook
Don’t dig a grave for me in earth’s cruel, crusted
soil. Don’t imprison me deep in darkness, away from
sun and rain and air, separating me from those I love
and those who might still care.
Rather, scatter my ashes from the bank of some quiet
mountain stream or better yet, on calm, emerald ocean
waves which gently toss me to and fro as a mother
rocks her nodding child, and I can bathe in sunlight
and be refreshed by misty rains.
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DEAR PASTOR (Hallmark Card Reject)
by Mariane Holbrook
Dear Pastor, words cannot express How sad we are when
we transgress. We hate to be a stumbling block, But
next time, will you bring a clock?
Your sermons are just what we need To learn our
doctrine and our creed. But we would sing a glorious tune
If you'd just let us out at noon.
We love the singing and the prayers And talking to our
God upstairs. But what you sow you cannot reap If you
keep putting us to sleep.
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ENGLISH CLASS
by Mariane Holbrook
In-dic-tion, in-vis-cid, Tri-dac-til, tour-bil-lion.
Sal-u-bri-ous, sta-sis, Vi-vi-fic, ver-mi-lion.
U-bi-qui-tous, un-du-late, Po-chard, pro-ven-ance,
Now, HOW can I use all These words in a sentence?
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EXIT LAUGHING
by Mariane Holbrook
When I get old And I am told My life is nearly
through, I hope I’ll smile And laugh awhile Before
I say adieu.
I know that we Are ’sposed to be Morose when we
depart; But couldn’t we Be filled with glee And
not just fall apart?
Would it be bad If I’m not sad And maybe tell a
joke? Is it okay To swing and sway; Or would you
have a stroke?
If you’re around My burial ground And wonder what
to say, Please say that I Just waved goodbye And
laughed and danced away.
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GOOD GRIEF, MOM
by Mariane Holbrook
I’m quitting my job as a mother. I’ve had it about up
to here With mud on the rugs And collections of bugs
And music that blasts in my ear.
My term has expired as a mother. It’s time that I had
some relief From boys who hate math And won’t take a
bath; Just why should I TAKE all this grief?
I’m going to resign as a mother. It’s NOT all it’s
cracked up to be. There’re days when I drag And look
like a rag And wonder what’s happened to me.
I’m reviewing my role as a mother. Johnny has said his
goodbyes. He’s enrolled down at State And his class
starts at eight; So, why are there tears in my eyes?
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GRANDMA’S CHICKEN COOP
by Mariane Holbrook
Merle and I gave our grandma a fit; In fact, she was
more like a wreck. “Get off of that chicken coop!” Grandma
would squawk, “Or you’ll break every bone in your neck.”
Around and around Grandma aimed at the roof With her
broom swinging wildly and free. Til Merle pushed me off
and I fell to the ground And got what was coming to me.
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I CAN HARDLY WAIT
by Mariane Holbrook
Someday I will sit back and listen; (It’ll be a real
shocker, no doubt), To hear my sons tell of THEIR
childhood And all the things THEY went without.
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I WISH I HAD
by Mariane Holbrook
I should have said “I love you” more. I should have
stepped across that silly barrier, that line I’d drawn
from childhood on, that wall that extended too high for me
to scale, too wide for me to traverse, and too thick
to easily penetrate. I stood beside his bony frame in
that sterile, forbidding room and watched his labored
breathing, his clenched hands, his weary eyes, and I
wanted to say it, desperately wanted to say it, but I
couldn’t and I didn’t And I wish I had. Oh, how I
wish I had.
I should have said “I love you” when I walked into her
room and heard her moan that deep, awful sound of
uninterrupted, unrelenting pain and saw her head resting
on her knees in that blue reclining chair, her pink
sweater fallen from one shoulder, her small pillows on the
floor. Over and over she whispered, “Oh, God, help me.
Oh, God, help me.” And I turned my head so she wouldn’t
see the rivulets of tears streaming crookedly down my face
and I wanted to say “I love you” but I couldn’t
and I didn’t And I wish I had. Oh, how I wish I
had.
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I’LL KNOW
by Mariane Holbrook
I’ll know when we’ve reached the summit, that place
best defined as the high meadow of rest reserved for close
friends and lovers, a place where two hearts meet and
meld and embrace in the knowledge that they overcame
every obstacle, every distraction, every encumbrance,
for that promised prize. I’ll know, but it hasn’t
happened yet.
I’ll know when we finally cross that line, that place
marked for the swift and sure, where as runners we pressed
doggedly on, ignoring misunderstandings, weariness and
tears, determined to endure, commanding every
resource, straining and pressing and forging ahead,
sure that at the end of the rocky course lay that
indelible line that can’t be erased; that line that says
we made it. I’ll know, but it hasn’t happened yet.
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IF
by Mariane Holbrook
If I could reach back in time, searching for that one
day, that one defining moment that glistens with
emerald brilliance in the sun, causing a profusion of
prism rays so blindingly beautiful that I was never
again the same, I’d pick the day that I met you.
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JACKSON
by Mariane Holbrook
What a cutie, what a prize, You have mommy’s pretty
eyes. Lying in your brand new crib, Bunnies on your
little bib.
Where’d you get that head of hair? Other grandmas stop
and stare, Wishing that my pride and joy Was their
little baby boy.
Where’d you get that awesome nose? From your daddy, I
suppose. Apple cheeks, daddy’s chin, Mouth that forms
a tiny grin.
When your daddy was this small, He was cute, too, I
recall. Much of him I see in you, Though I see your
mommy, too.
How I thank our God above For this precious gift of
love. Little grandson, what a joy, I’m so glad that
you’re a boy.
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JUST BE MY FRIEND
by Mariane Holbrook
She walked slowly toward our open porch. In her tanned
arms she gripped a large sack with several tasseled ears
of corn protruding from the top like mini-soldiers
at rigid attention.
She seemed tired, her steps tentative as though
unsure of her welcome. I had met her only briefly at
the small, white-steepled country church near North
Carolina's famed Blue Ridge.
As she walked onto the porch, I opened the screen door
to invite her in. "I've brought you something from our
garden. It's not much," she said, placing the paper
sack in my arms. "I can't stay; there's still so much to
do. " I thanked her and asked what I could do for her
in return. She hesitated, weighing her response. "Just
be my friend," she answered quietly.
I watched her walk toward her car, strength and grace
her companions, fortified by years of unselfish giving
to everyone she knew, everyone she loved.
She turned and waved and I smiled at her. After she
drove away, I raised my brimming eyes heavenward,
knowing only God would understand. "Thank You."
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JUST TAKE ME OUT AND SHOOT ME NOW
I walked along the crowded streets and people stopped to
stare The looks that they were giving me were more than I
could bear. I looked at my reflection in the windows that
I passed "What's wrong with all these people here? Am I
just being harassed?"
I strolled into the mighty Mall where shoppers crammed the
aisles Some shoppers laughed uproariously, their faces
bright with smiles. At first I thought 'twas me that
brought the giggles and the stares But then I figured,
"Life is great and by the way, who cares?"
I looked at lots of clothing in the stores that lined the
halls And marveled at the paintings that adorned the Art
Shoppe walls. The laughter seemed to follow me no matter
where I went But life is stressful, so I thought, and
people need to vent.
My shopping done, I went outside and someone touched my
arm. "My dear, I hate to bring this up and cause you some
alarm. Now please don't get upset and maybe have a heart
attack: Because of static cling, there's panties spread
across your back.
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LAUGHING THROUGH MID-LIFE CRISIS
by Mariane Holbrook
Am I having a middle-age crisis? Are those tears on my
cheeks that I see? Did they just start to fall For no
reason at all Because hormones are missing in me?
Tell me, what is a middle-age crisis? Is it suffered by
ALL women folk? Did some medical freak With his tongue
in his cheek Make the whole thing up just as a joke?
And do men have a middle-age crisis? It is something
I’d sure like to know. What us women go through - Men
should have some pain, too. Is their threshold of pain
just too low?
Tell me, how does one treat mid-life crisis? Just
ignore it and it passes by? When you get a hot flash
Do you make a mad dash For the door and hope no one
asks why?
Just how long do you have mid-life crisis? Til you’re
fifty or sixty or more? Do you start gaining
weight? Does your love life abate? Do your ankles swell
up and get sore?
I’ve decided to skip mid-life crisis. I'm too busy and
don’t have the time. So, you women out there While
you’re tearing your hair, Think of me living life at its
prime.
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LIFE’S A BOWL OF CHERRIES
by Mariane Holbrook
It is fun to be somebody’s daughter. It is nice being
somebody’s wife. There are no greater joys, If you
don’t mind the noise, Than some boisterous young boys in
your life.
It’s not hard being somebody’s daughter. It is easy to
call someone “sis”. And when all’s said and done I
would say it’s been fun Though I doubt that I’d call it
all bliss.
I’ve enjoyed being somebody’s neighbor, Though your
friends can be sometimes a pain. But you take their phone
calls And you climb up the walls, And it helps if
you’re slightly insane.
So I doubt that I’d like being single. Without kids, I
just know I’d be blue. As for family and friends And
the love each one sends, I should thank them much more
than I do.
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More Poetry ~ (M-Z)

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