This is a poem from Myths that was originally written a couple years earlier. Some important things in my life have changed since then but others have become constants. Now, as always, I hope my mom was right.

FDO

Today is Easter

The Sunday of the Resurrection

And I’ve been told all day

In large ways and small

That I need to believe

 

I need to believe for myself

And I need to believe for her

For my mother who is now dead

In my eyes at least

If not in God’s

 

For me it’s still too hard

Since I’ve never been a joiner

And faith is a virtue

That eludes me

 

Sometimes I wish

I could share her spirit

The optimism

The joy, the laughter

(Oh, so much laughter)

 

I still can’t embrace it

Not yet at least

Because I just don’t know

Whether to laugh myself

Or to cry

 

Between her abiding faith

And my utter lack of it

May lie the truth

But I don’t think so

One of us is totally right

 

I hope it’s her

 

 

 

© Gayle Force Press 2009

A poem by Franklin Oliver

 

 

 

God is in the wax and smoke

The lingering scent of a fire

Now extinguished

Still burning

Brighter than ever

 

 

© Gayle Force Press 2013

 

 

 

The sailor sets course for a new

Newly windswept shore tonight

With lights of human not celestial design

Serving as his beacons

 

He feels diminished though uncertain just why

That should be

As he burns the boots that have served so well

Smiling still the same

Because the howls that will awaken him tonight

Come from the child that bears his mother’s name

And eyes that look just like his

 

 

 

© Gayle Force Press 2008

 

 

 

 

My sisters don’t look like me

They are sharper

With brighter, yellowed skin

Both look strong and solidly

Inside their bodies

With large brown eyes

Serving to illuminate their clear

Beautiful faces

 

 

I run together

Dark skin

Nothing hidden

With densely thick hair

Nearly black eyes bridging

The narrow gap in it

 

 

And my face scarcely shines

As my brooding manifests itself

In the weary sag of eyes,

Face, back, hips and knees

Atlas’ burden pressing upon me

 

 

My sisters love joy

They relish and seek it out

Once sought, it loves to be found

For me it’s too much to ask

Which is fine

Because joy doesn’t fit on my face

 

 

 

© Gayle Force Press 2003

 

 

 

I suppose that I missed the train by a few minutes

It likely had already flung itself into interstate cruising speed

When I parked the Buick at the end of the row

 

I walked the interchange of rail and street

Hoping to feel the train’s last evidence beneath my feet

Cursing myself while staring at raised crossbars

 

Some passengers were sleeping I’m sure

Dreaming of the journey they were on

Misremembering the Wichita skyline

 

Others would have been tense and restless

Annoyed that catching a cross country train at night

Means sitting where you can, not where you want

 

I knew she was still awake though

Wondering when I would forgive

Her parting words, ‘For better or for worse’

 

 

© Gayle Force Press 2007

 

 

 

The last train from Overbrook is leaving today

I suppose it’s about time

But this has come to feel like home to me

 

My tiny windows give me just enough light

To see the stream across the bridge;

This really is a gorgeous view

I know that Dr. Baylor was right, now

Rest and some down time made the difference

Thankfully everything is fine

 

This winter will be wonderful

I already can sense it, now that I’m well

The snowy days will be peaceful

With laughing kids reminding me of my own childhood

Not like last year’s taunting jeers

 

And Christmas, wow,

I can’t wait for Christmas

Even though I won’t buy any presents

It will still be thrilling

Maybe I’ll go out some night

Just looking at the store windows and houses

Decked out so lavishly

 

My apartment will be nice

With so many little things that I like

Some books, my pipe

Maybe a couple pictures too

Not the sad kind that make me feel lonely

But happy laughing photos

Filling frames and space

Some with people I used to know

 

The last train from Overbrook is leaving today

I know it’s just about time

Even though it’s home for me

 

 

© Gayle Force Press 2007

 

 

 

The leaves have begun their steady

Cascading down

In the brilliant parade of color

That celebrates autumn

In the Midwest

 

I sit drinking the last of the morning

Coffee

Almost hoping

That an early snow will arrive

 

To give cushion

And a shimmering

Crystal white backdrop

To the leaves that will fall tomorrow

 

 

© Gayle Force Press 2003

 

 

 

 

 

There are angels all around us

In innumerable guises

Wearing masks we fail to recognize

Like Baucis and Philemon

Dumb to the divinities

Asking for our help

 

There is stardust all around us

In everything you see

All we are or do

Or can ever become

Wholly filled

With the essence

Of Heaven itself

 

There are angels all around us

There is stardust all around us

 

 

 © Gayle Force Press 2003

 

 

 

My head is pounding unmercifully

Surely little Athena is trying to force her way out

If I can find Hephaestus quickly

I’ll beg him to open my skull

 

 

© Gayle
Force Press 2002