Heaven Called My Friend Spencer Home...

Heaven Came and Called My Friend Spencer Home...

I shared this two years ago and today when I pulled up his sharings with me and others,

this is the first one that came up...earlier I had just opened Facebook and in the friends section, 

I noticed his picture and felt the need to click it...

To learn that Spencer Turnage had died...

My heart jolted and I cried...for a man I had never met in person...now, maybe someday... 
in the future, he will hug each of us in welcome as we join him where he now rests...

I had met him on Gather quite a number of years ago and then continued online 

interaction here on Facebook. During that time, he had lost his wife and much of his poetry 

told of that loss... Many of his Gather friends "gathered" around him...

Now he's saying goodbye...and I don't want to see him go...


He shared so much in his poetry...had all the women swooning...LOL...
But he  shared himself with us, always a true and gentle man
Who happened to be able to share his feelings and love to all of us...


I shall miss you much, my friend Spence.....You're now sheltered in the arms of 
His Greater Love!


Glenda

Love My Grits

Grits, they say with a start
as if they are a foreign treat
I love to have them with other food
in deeming them very good to eat.

Could care less when they react
like when they turn up their nose
Seems they never gave them a chance
but I can only guess or suppose.

I like grits as a side dish
often add a few chunks of cheese
and no matter what they have to say
they go down slow and with such ease.

You go a head and laugh
I'll enjoy my grits to a tee
whenever you refuse to a new taste
imagine grits are a pleasure to me.

Del Cano April 20, 2009

Grits and Bear 'em!

I well remember that first time
Grits were placed there in my face
It was eggs over easy I liked fine
But these eggs set in my place?!

Eggs over easy to my way of thinkin'
Was eggs turned over keeping the yellow soft
But these eggs were sliming and slinkin'
O'er half my plate, running buff!

Movin' toward what looked to me
Thrown up milk from one of my kitties
It merged with the slimy runny eggs
Whole plate was white, was this just a tease?

Taking a chance I peeked at my sis
But she was talking and eating fine
Scrambled eggs and toast, heavenly bliss
All I could wish, that plate was mine!

Looked across the table, friend noticed me
Do you know what that is, I was asked.
Shaking my "no" begging her "please?"
"Why that there's grits, dear, corn that's smashed!"
In a public restaurant, my Mom would' ve said "eat"
But with those runny eggs and rambling corn
Not getting sick would be my great feat!
I sat back on my chair, hungry, forlorn...

Just then our waitress must have saw my face
"Not done 'nuf, honey? No grits for you today?"
Almost in tears, I nodded with grace
"Scramble them please, and grits? No Way!"

G. A. Bixler, April 30, 2009

~~~

Thanks so much for all who shared their poetry. When Spencer sent me this one, I just knew I had my own story on grits to tell! I was my sister's "model" when she took her test for beauty school. We were having breakfast on the first day...all her friends who were going to be tested and their models. There were about ten sitting around a big table and I was the youngest. I can still remember my feelings when I had that plate set in front of me. I knew I shouldn't make a fuss, and the school was paying for our meal so I felt I should eat it...

Well, Spencer, seeing those running grits invading those slimy runny eggs...put me off grits...for life! And I think of that time every time my sister, Dee, and I go out to eat breakfast and she orders...grits... Not for me, Please!

~~~

The Skin I'm In

This is the skin I was put in
I was not given any choice.
Everyone else has words to say
while denying me my voice.

When I do speak my experience
they take the right to call me wrong.
How in hell am I supposed to grow
when hearing such a conflicting song.

This is the skin I was put in
predetermined before I was born
yet, I am often viewed with malice.
as if I had some devilish horns.

I am judged before I am known
strictly due to the skin I'm in.
Ignoring many human facets
which to me seems more like sin.

This is the skin I was put in
long before I could form ideas.
You who condemn my existence
owe me time now and in arrears.
Del Cano March 10, 2009

~~~

If I Get Cold

If I get cold tonight

will you promise to keep me warm?

Do I snuggle under the blankets

or the comfort of your arms?

If the winds shift to cool

and storms draw down on me,

will you snuggle me close up

making it all less chilly?

If I get afraid of all the charges there

can I count on you to love me

keeping sweet scents in the air?

If I get cold tonight

I'll count on you without guilt

and wallow in the comfort of us

together under the quilt!

Del Cano - March, 2009

~~~

One more for those of us who liked the fire...

http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6957929086575807165#editor/target=post;postID=8658561235565838570

Keep Writing Your Poetry, Spence, When we get there, we'll have lots of time to catch up with our reading...