I Choose Joy: Poetry by Darlys Jacobson

I Choose Joy

Poetry by Darlys Jacobson

Darlys Jacobson

ISBN 978-1-63903-672-1 (paperback)

ISBN 978-1-63903-673-8 (digital)

Copyright © 2022 by Darlys Jacobson

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

A Musical Instrument

Be Careful, My Dear

Bird Thuds

Black Pepper Shaker

Cat

Coloring Books for Adults

Coloring Inside the Lines

Creation Walk

Dandelion Seeds

Deaf

Elizabeth's Shoes

Fragrances

Home Is a Yarn

Home Is the Farm

How Do I Stand?

I Am Not Deaf

I'm Afraid

In This Dress

Journeys End

Laugh

Leukemia

The Mannequin

My Neighbor

No Promises

Ode to Emily Dickinson

Oil Lamp

Orange #1

Orange #2

Poinsettia

Roses

Say Something (I'm Giving Up on You)

Shades of Green

She Was an Angel

Sticks and Stones

The Button Jar

The Cedar Chest

The Goodbye Ritual

The Notebook

The Nursing Home

The Woodpile

This Is the Way I Tie My Shoe (Left-Handed Works Too)

To Be or Not To Be

Tryst

Two Kmart Receipts

Up on the Housetop

Vanilla

Walleye

Watercolor

Where I'm From (Minnesota)

A Note to Myself

Ellen

Ants

Are You My Daughter?

Autumn

Beauty Rest

Blanket Flower

Chaos

Freezing in February

Full Moon

Getting Old

Grandpa Jake

His Last Ride

Home at the Cabin

Humpty Dumpty

Hymn of Praise

I Will Write a Poem Today

Juxtapose

Life Is a Boardwalk

Limericks

Making Plans

May

Mayfly

Mom's Hands

Mirror, Mirror

Morning Observation

My Morning Walk in January in Minnesota

Naked

Owl

Peace or Not Peace

Poet Priest

Prayer Shawl

Rhubarb

River Talk

Royal Pain

Secrets

The Bag

The Cemetery

The Girls' Bedroom

The Poetry Class

The Tractor

Time

Today I Am an Animal

Unexpected

Wild Rose

Winter

Writing

A Kiss

A Lengthy Novel

Absorbed in Choices

Change

Chemo

Classical Music

Clean

Costa Rica

Daffodils

Did Ya

Different

Dinner with Friends

Divorce

Epic Message

Friends Who Don't Have Cancer

The Garden

Glitter

Happy Endings

He Loves Me (He Loves Me Not)

Howling

Hummingbird

Invisible

Kaleidoscope

Kitchen Table

Monet

Mr. Scale

Mud

My Writing Chair

My Summer Calendar

Never a Wish

No Words

Number Seven

Orange #3

Orange #4

Red Robe

Red Wooly

Rocks

Seagulls

Shoes

Sunrise

Taste

Texture

The Carriage of Death

The Day after the Fourth

The Lay of the Land

There's No Place Like Home

Transformation

Window Writing

Writing Edge

Are You Sorry

Bible

Birthday Party

Hanging Clothes

Compromised

Continue to Write

Critique

Crumb

Curtains

Dear Jack,

Dementia

Divorce

Father's Thanksgiving

Forget Me Nots

Funeral Lag

Green

Hanging On

One Day Home from London

I See

Kite Tail

Large Subject, Small Poem

The Last Dance

M&M's

Mammogram

More Than Coffee

My Past

Night Walker

Obsolete

Orange #5

Pencil to Pillar

Peonies

Pictures

Symmetry

Thanksgiving Recipes

Mama Cow

The Poem That I Am

The Secret Life

The Tube

The Hospital Waiting Room

Too Much Sun

Unsolved Mysteries

Valentine

Yellow Brick Road

Yoga

Ninety

To Jon, my husband, who was alway willing to put down his newspaper and fully listen to each and every poem. Who laughed, cried, and stayed silent in all the right places.

To Attorney Tawnie Langenfeld and Dr. Jillian Bresnahan, my daughters, who pre-edited, listened, and cheered me on, every single day.

Without all three of them this book would still be written in longhand in my eighty-seven college ruled notebooks.

A Musical Instrument

As we sit around

the table at our writing group

I hear pens on paper

forming words

and sentences.

I hear a heavy line being drawn

down the page.

Then I hear words

being written again

soft, flirty, airy.

I see smiles on faces.

I close my eyes

and I can hear the flow of rhythm

metered in my pulse.

You must pay close attention.

Listen.

The music is in the pen

and the song is in the words

written on the paper.

Be Careful, My Dear

The first snow fell the opening

week of deer season.

Dad didn't want me to go skiing

but he knew I would.

At least promise to be careful, my dear.

handing me a florescent

orange hat and jacket.

Two times around twenty acres

I got too warm

took off the fluorescent jacket.

When my head started to sweat

I pulled off the florescent hat

and tie my blond hair

into a floppy ponytail.

When I got tired

I rested my shoulders

over my ski poles

in a table-like stance.

That's when I heard the

gunshot.

In paralyzed fear, I inched my way

back to the house

where I saw my Dad through

the kitchen window

watching me.

I knew I was going to get

yelled at for taking off

the florescent gear, but

I prayed that he didn't hear the rifle shot

that I'm sure

was innocently

meant for a deer.

Bird Thuds

Ten thuds in one day.

Broken necked birds

piled under the windows

around the house.

I pick them up

and place them in a coffee can

like a farmer gathering warm eggs

in a chicken coop.

Why?

When you have the whole outside

to frolic

do you choose the window

as your destination?

Is it something you were told

you couldn't have

so you go after it with your whole being?

Is it the apple tree

in the Garden of Eden

the one thing

they were told not to touch?

Is it the choke cherry tree

in the backyard

the fruit fermented

making your head spin?

Or is it a mate you see

in your reflection,

so beautiful

you have no choice

but to

throw yourself at her

if that be it

It's almost beautiful.

Black Pepper Shaker

The pepper shaker

shaped like a small mason jar

with a sideways U-shaped handle

takes his role very seriously

now that he is the spice of choice.

He steps up to the plate without complaint

being shook

on eggs and hash browns

leaving his white cap a dusty gray.

When not in use

he positions himself

on the outside edge of the counter

to keep his salty wife

of thirty years safe.

When he leans in

to blow her a kiss

all she can do

is sneeze.

Cat

We have a cat

a C-A-T

yeah you heard it right

I said cat.

So

I say to no one in particular

if we are going to have a cat

she is going to be

a trained cat.

She will not get up