Jo's Tennyson Page
Tennyson Spencer Crowe was born early Friday--July 7, 2006, at Sydney's Royal North Shore Hospital weighing 8 pounds.
TENNYSON
“A poet?” “Yes,” he smiled
Looking
at the tiny face
Of
his newborn child.
“Why?”
Again, the grin
As
his father-fingers
Stroked
the newborn chin.
“A
gift,” he said, eyes bright
As
he held his child
In
quiet morning light.
“A
gift?” What could he mean?
Why
such a name
For
a life brand new, unseen?
“Of
beauty,” he whispered low,
Thinking
father-thoughts
That
made his own face glow.
“And
hope,” he added now,
Trailing
fingertips
Across
a newborn brow.
“Of
promise, too,” he spoke,
Dreaming
father-dreams,
Continuing
his stroke.
“Promise?”
Why did he say
Such
strange words
Upon
a natal day?
But
Russell only smiled,
Loving
the unlived life
And
the promise of the child.
SECOND
SON OF A SECOND SON
“I
know,” he said,
His
smile spreading clear,
“That
he is large
And
you are small, my dear.
For
I have been
Where
you now arrive…
He
is pushing three
And
you are new alive.
Being
second
Means
nothing more
Than
he has come
And
walked a bit before.
So,
take his hand,
Rest
in his shade
While
you are new…
Don’t
be afraid.
Days
are coming
When
you will ride
Not
behind him, but
With
him, at his side.
Brothers
are a gift.
So
plain, it’s true…
You
are gift to him;
He
is one to you.
I
know, my love,
In
all my heart, my mind,
The
value of a brother,
And,
Tenny, you will find
The
joys of it,
The
loyalty and care
Only
close-knit brothers
In
this life can share.”
TENNY
Sometimes
Blessings
Wonderful in nature and in kind
Are
granted
Doubly
To those of open heart, open mind;
And
heaven,
Smiling,
Stands ajar so love can make its way
Into
waiting,
Ready arms,
Primed that love should come, that love should stay.
Charlie
came,
Bringing
In his wake the
trailing smiles of God,
Pushing
wide
The boundaries
Of all the places he has trod…
Where
doors
No more
Can ever yet again be closed
Nor
longing
Questions
Ever yet again need posed.
Can
it be?
Can hearts
Be filled to overflowing…twice?
Is
it…
Allowed
And not have it called some vice?
Are
hearts
So large
They can hold such fullness now?
Is
it…
Required,
The taking or the making of some vow?
For
you
Are here,
And
fullness expands, finding only places filled,
Yet
still
There is
Completely room, nothing new needs milled.
Fullness
Of this kind
Fills…yet never occupies
Spaces
In the heart,
Unwalled, spreading like the skies.
It
only,
Rather,
Some how, makes more room
For
love
To come,
Take residence…and bloom.
Russell above, Dani below
Libris Poetry Index
Russ and Tenny November 2008
