Another poem

This one has a somewhat elementary rhyme scheme, but the more I read it, the more I like it. What do you think?

Legacy
By Eric Eckert

When we age, we strain to see
Just what our legacy will be.
A chest of treasure, silver and gold
Or simply the feat of growing old?

A castle, some jewels? No, I do not believe
Those are the things that we would like to leave
Behind to the loved ones who relied so much
On our abilities, our strengths and, at times, our touch.

Who we are – that is something to consider,
Not what we’ve collected, those things leave us bitter.
Not want for belongings, materials will fade.
But want for the laughter, the time that was made.

Dinners at home ‘round the table at night,
The pat on the back for a chore that’s done right,
A good wish in a card, maybe a note to say hi.
Those are the legacies for which we should strive.

A trip to the ballpark, or a hike through the trees,
Catch in the back yard, or fishing the streams.
Time with a coloring book, a story before bed.
Those are the wonders that will be remembered.

Have we served our own masters with selfish delight?
Or did we pass on what we knew to be right?
Responsibility, stewardship, justice, faith –
How about caring for others? Or giving all away?

Did we talk with one face yet act with the other?
Did we engage? Or did we ignore our brothers?
Did we care for our neighbors, for their spiritual being?
Or did we walk on by and pretend not to see?

Did we submit to the Lord? Put our lives in His hands?
Or did we do it ourselves, and forego all His plans?
Were we selfish, impure, drunk, or enslaved?
Did we acknowledge our weakness and ask to be saved?

Did we pass on to children a reflection of Christ?
Or did we concentrate on ourselves and lose sight
Of the goal, our one chance in this mortal life
To make peace and love, to subdue any strife?

At the end, we’ll reflect on our words and our deeds.
And what will grow will be the results of the seeds
That we planted and tended during our brief time.
Will our legacies blossom, or will they wither and die?

I am guilty, convicted of the words that I write.
I want to love and live better, so that I might
Hand down to my children a me that they’ll see
Tried his best to provide for their spiritual needs.

Time, faith and love are the best things we give
Our legacies, our gifts, are the ways that we live.

Copyright 2008

A new poem

I played around with a new poem. What do you think? Is it too much? (PS -- while I wanted some funky spacing, I just can't seem to get the correct spacing on this blog post!)

On Writing

My arms are strong in the deep water
Shoulders stretched
Elbows bent down at right angles
Forearms circling like eggbeaters
Circling like eggbeaters
Legs kicking
Pushing me up

A breath
Between intermittent waves
A faraway shore
Success if I can make it

Waves carry me forward
Then pull me back
Forward
Then back

Progress is slow, tedious
But there is progress
And my arms and legs still move

At night
Black water sloshes against my cheeks
To sleep would be to die
To lose my strength to die
My arms give out
Give in
To the density of the waves
And the movement of the water

The movement of the water

The movement of the water

My legs, determined still to win the shore

At daybreak
Sun reflects off the sand,
Uncut diamonds for the picking
My goal is the shore
The faraway shore,
Respite from the fight,
The constant battle to breathe

The weight
Of the water
Against
My chest

More waves

Salt and sun bake my tears,
Tears that come with the loss of my legs
The faraway shore
Now invisible through crusted eyes
The smell of the shore is strong
And the water continues to move

Waves
More frequent now
Dip
And rise
Dip
And rise

Kelp glances off my wrinkled toes
The blisters on my eyelids
Don’t hurt as much
My strength’s absorbed by the water
So I float
On my back
Head first toward the shore

The smell of the shore is strong
And the water continues to move

At dusk
Sand bristles along my back
A crab clips at the base of my neck
Driftwood pounds my ear
My lips are blistered shut
I am blind

Yet the smell of the shore is strong
And the water continues to move me

out

to

sea

again

Copyright 2008