Poetry

Her Voice, My Daughter’s Voice

On the other side of the globe,

In a rented worship space.

I heard the sound of my angel,

As a tear ran down my face.

It was her voice, my daughter’s voice,

I’d known since she was young.

Her words were sweet-but unknown to me

As she sang in foreign tongue.

It was the voice I’d heard often times.

As a child playing on the floor,

The voice that called out “Goodnight Dad”

Before I closed her bedroom door.

And now she sings for others,

Songs of Christ, songs of joy.

Perched there in between

Her own daughter and little boy.

O yes it brought a tear,

And yet a smile to my face.

To know her voice comforts others

In this far-so far away place.

And when I leave and you must stay,

Your father’s ears will strain,

Longing to hear you my child,

And all your sweet refrains.

But sing your songs--sing them loud,

Shout them from hill or tower.

And in my sleepless nights ahead,

Memories will fill small hours.

Bellow out your songs of hope,

Sing my angel sing!!

With words that tell of His story,

The story of Your King.

Jeff Smith

Dedicated to my missionary daughter Amber--July 22, 2017

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Higgins Lake, Michigan

As my mother drives down the State Park drive,

I get that familiar vibe, feeling alive

The nature makes this campground so great,

Michigan truly is the best state.

I see the bars, the trails, the view, and the most precious sight of all,

The beautiful lake,  clear water is exactly how I recall.

The miniature brown camp store through the tall pine trees is in sight now

That is where I get as much ice cream as my stomach will allow.

The camp store is very excellent but the best ice cream is elsewhere,

It’s called Nibbles, it’s down the road, birthday cake is the best, I swear

Many stand in lines to the road, waiting for that taste of ice cream

Talking to different people, they all agree this place is supreme

At last we’re here, pulling into the crowded campground,

There are the dogs, the kids, the crowds, all in one loud sound.

I can see the magnificent blue lake from our sight,

I smell the smokey campfires, knowing we’ll have one tonight. 

I walk to the lake, the sand is like heaven to my feet,

I step my toes in the chilly water, feeling complete.

Hearing the engine and motors out there from all the boats,

Imagining myself out there soon on my nice blue float. 

As night falls, I see the yellow, blue, and orange flames in every spot

Dad starts our own flames, pouring the gasoline, getting the sticks hot

People still walking around, laughing, shadows enjoying the night

This place feels just like home, being with my family feels so right

I can’t wait for the new day to start, and to be out on the lake

Now I go to sleep, dreaming  of the great days I’m going to make.

Allyson Hudek

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I Get By

Sit alone in the daytime

Fight all day with the devils in my mind

Lay alone in the nighttime

Counting sheep, but the darkness keeps me blind

I cross that bridge, my hands are shaking

Can I drive over fear?

I get by by taking my time

I look up at the sky and I’ll clear out my mind

I can try myself for a while

Remembering to smile and I’m gonna be fine

Spent a year out of my mind

Can’t acount for the four years that you lied

Entitlement and a deadline

Using me and you jet out of my life

Off the ground that plane is taking

Can I get above fear?

I get by a day at a time

Take off in the sky and I’m gonna be fine

I might cry, but just for a while

Wipe away my eyes and they’re gonna stay dry

                       M. Scholp

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                    My Mom’s Car 

Summer

Seven a.m. 

Seven years old

riding with Mom to work

The rhythmic sway of the drive

Lulls me to sleep

The hot Summer air 

Makes her cigarette smell sweet

Fall 

Driving to the pumpkin patch

In Mom’s black S.U.V.

Amber leaves fly up

As we speed past

Mom and Dad laugh

Brother and I bicker

The pumpkin patch 

Couldn’t come quicker

Winter

Mom curses the snow

Still in pajamas

I turn on the news

And sit by the television

Hoping for at least a delay

Stepping into the cold car

I'm asking 

“Why isn't it a snow day?”

Spring 

The rain pours 

Pitter patter pitter patter

I sit behind my mom

Watching the raindrops race each other 

On my window 

Watching the wipers go back and forth

On her window

Summer comes again 

But now 

I have my own car

               Kaylee Kilbarger

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Love Letter to Grandma

How can I ever pen the words,

What I’ve felt for so many years.

Writing them now my heart overflows,

My eyes are full of tears.

What phrase could ever capture

The memories that fill my mind.

Your love in some ways salvaged me,

What prose could I ever find.

But I wanted to write all you mean,

Before aging steals memories so dear.

I think your love rescued this little boy

Who now enters his sixtieth year.

You made me feel important to you.

I can’t express just how much that meant.

And though you are with the angels now,

Back then you were the angel heaven sent.

I cherish the times we shared,

Remembering you in days ahead.

I couldn’t let another day pass

And leave these words unsaid.

Jeff Smith

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     Of You

How can black appear to be white?

How can bright day turn to dark night?

How can red hot turn to cold blue?

I can always ask you

What motivates will cease to exist

She who entered now exits

What once was believed no longer is true

This reminds me of you

That which was safe is now a danger

She whom I knew has become a stranger

What once began is now through

Perhaps she is you

Out with the old, in with the new

The circle’s complete and it excludes

What your wedding begins and my funeral concludes

Was all done by you

Matt Scholp

  2022  

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The opinions and attitudes expressed in these pieces are expressive of the artists themselves. They do not reflect the opinions or attitudes of Madison Local School District or Madison Montage.