The Boy I Left Behind Poems

Timeless

Our relationship together

Is a web through time.

Slowly spinning up, down

around

A never-ending kaleidoscope of you and me.

Sometimes it sparkles

when we laugh

like raindrops

And sometimes it breaks

and I cry.

Our web is very delicate

but it keeps holding on.

I wonder how

I don’t understand –

But then, I see you smile

and my heart remembers.

Poem by Jenn, 1994

Regret

I can’t believe I’m feeling

this way

especially now, when it’s

too late anyhow.

There were so many times

when it could have been so right

But now it’s so wrong

and I just don’t belong

in your life –

Not in that way.

Why…

Why did I make you believe

I didn’t care?

And make you see only emptiness there?

You were always there for me

with a smile.

You patiently waited for your chance

that never came.

And I only have myself

to blame.

Poem by Jenn, 1995

The Rest of the Story

Thanks to the global pandemic known as COVID-19, I guess I’m feeling a bit sorry for myself as I’m confined to my home—or at the very least, a little nostalgic for “the way things used to be.” This feeling sent me on a trip down memory lane as I searched for poems to post to the blog this week. While I was initially looking for something that would bring me back to my more recent every-day normal (having lunch with friends, perhaps?), I ended up coming across two throw-back poems to my high school and college days.

Have you ever experienced bad timing when it comes to love? 

Well, that’s the rest of this story … longer version below. :-)

I became fast friends with the unnamed guy in the above poems in high school. I don’t think I’ve ever hit it off so quickly with someone in my life, other than my husband. Well, this guy and I would literally spend hours together in my car or at the park simply talking about anything and everything. I just love a good conversationalist—and this guy was one of the best. At the height of our budding friendship, I went away one summer on an exchange program to another country. Had I not left, I’m certain we would have hooked up. However, fate had other plans. Perhaps it was the exotic nature of being on my own without my parents for the very first time, but I fell head over heels for one of the other exchange students from my group who was also from my hometown.  I essentially came back from that trip with a boyfriend, much to the chagrin of the boy I left behind.

Fast forward another year. Everyone was getting ready to leave for college, including my boyfriend. When he got put on the wait list for his top college in another state, I was secretly excited that we’d go to college together, as I was staying in town. However, one phone call changed everything. He was bumped up on the wait list and accepted after all. Let’s just say he ultimately broke my heart before he left and that was the end of that.

Through it all, the boy I left behind had remained a good friend. Of course, by the time I began pining for our friendship to blossom into something more, he had moved on to another relationship. How in the world could we have such horrible timing? The above poems tell all.

It is interesting how life takes its various twists and turns. I personally believe everything happens for a reason and ultimately I ended up with the current love of my life who was worth the wait. Nearly 24 years later, I cannot imagine life without him or our girls.  

Have you ever had bad timing when it came to a relationship or other missed opportunity? Did things work out for the best anyway? Or do you still wish for the days that were? I’d love to hear your story in the comments below.

New Baby Poem

How Fast They Grow

Dear Crystal, 

We were so excited to hear the news

About your recent birth,

Another spirit from above

Has found his place on earth.

He is a part of a loving family now,

So many blessings from the start!

Because of goodly parents who honor

The Lord with all their heart.

May you be blessed in your sacred callings

As both a mother and a wife,

As you take on the responsibility again

To care for another life.

Should the wonderful (but stressful!) days ahead

Become heavy for you to bear,

Just remember God placed friends in your life

Who will always be right there.

Cherish these first weeks, months and years

For as you very well know,

Time has a way of passing us by

With how fast our children grow.

Congratulations on your new baby boy!

We are so happy for you.

Love,

Shauna, Becky & Jenn

The Rest of the Story

This poem was written in Rapid City, South Dakota when I was part of the Relief Society presidency for the women’s organization at church. The woman the poem was written to was part of our presidency group and she already had a number of kiddos at home.

Although many of these poems blur together for me during this time of life, I wouldn’t be surprised if this poem was included with a dinner or a large pack of diapers. You can feel the friendship we felt with her through this poem.

Who is the last person close to you that gave birth to a baby boy? Feel free to use this poem to go along with your own gift of love!

Bread of Life Poem

Christmas Gift

                       A miracle is Born in Bethlehem

                               Angels Rejoice and sing praises to Him.

                       A star in the East shines so bright

                         Shepherds Adore the wondrous sight.

                       Imagine the Delight of this glorious night!

  

                         The Prince Of Peace was born to give

                                His life For ours, that we might live.

 How can we honor such a Loving gift?

              In a simple word – It’s how we “uplift”

                       How well we Focus on the needs of others

                                Shows Eternal gratitude for Christ, our brother.

Love,

The Stewart Family 2008

The Rest of the Story

As you know, I enjoy writing poetry that can be given away as a gift. However, even better is when I can pair that poem with some other small token of affection. Whether it’s a vase of flowers, a bag of sweet tarts, or even a package of diapers, no gift is complete without the touch of personalized poetry.

When we lived in Sheridan, it was customary to give a small gift to your neighbors around Christmastime. Sometimes it was an ornament to hang on your tree and other times it was an assorted plate of homemade baked goods that the kids would barter over. If the gift was a plate of baked goods, a family recipe for one of the items was often included with the treats. I always thought that was such a great idea. However, the one thing I wanted to bake this particular year was a mini loaf of my Grandma Wakefield’s Buttermilk Banana Bread. The only problem was that I was sworn to secrecy. I was not allowed to share the recipe with non-family members as long as my mom was still living. Well, she will be 78 this year, and so far I’ve kept my promise.

Instead, I did the next best thing and decided to write a poem to go with it. I guess I was getting a little bored with the traditional letters down the side of a poem that spelled a word or phrase. This time I wondered what would happen if I wrote the words “BREAD OF LIFE” straight down the middle of the page? I had to find out. I took a blank white sheet of paper and boldly wrote down the page as described. Then, I started to think of how that phrase related to the time of year.

I have to laugh a bit looking back on the poem today. Preach it Jenn! That last stanza is definitely my mantra. I’m all about lifting others, giving back, and paying it forward. Service has always been the key ingredient to my happy outlook on life, despite the difficulties and inherent challenges we all face. Don’t get me wrong, I’m just as prone to a good pity party as anyone else. I don’t think there is anything wrong with having one either. In fact, I think it is good to get all those emotions out on the table and recognize them for what they are so you can let them go. Just don’t stay too long at the party—no one likes the person who lingers longer when it’s time to go home.

Do you have a favorite family recipe that is sworn to secrecy? Feel free to share it in the comments below—I won’t tell on you!

Snowflake Poem

Snowflake

The first flake of snow

Falling ever so softly,

It finds the ground – lost.

by Jenn, age 5

  

The Rest of the Story

I debated whether to share this poem. Technically this Haiku was written at the request of my preschool teacher, so I guess you can say I wrote it for someone else! lol. Aside from that, this poem marks the moment where my affinity with words began. As such, it is an important backstory to this entire blog.

Writing this poem is my earliest childhood memory. It was written while I attended preschool on the campus of Arizona State University where my dad would adjunct occasionally in his spare time when he wasn’t busy with his full-time job as a research physicist for the US Department of Agriculture at their Water Conservation Laboratory in Phoenix, Arizona.

One day at preschool we learned how to cut out snowflakes from white paper. I remember being taught about poetry and how the teacher wanted us to write a poem to go with our snowflakes. This particular poem, however, had a very special rhythm to the words in each line. I remember counting on my fingers the 5-7-5 syllable structure of the lines. I kept testing words aloud as I counted on my fingers with each syllable, over and over again. Even as a young child, I knew when this poem was “just right.” For some reason, I was overjoyed by the accomplishment of figuring out this “word puzzle.” My teachers and parents must have loved it too because I remember getting so many compliments on this poem. I felt like the Queen of Words. I had no idea that putting words together in just the right way could be so powerful. I had never even seen snow in real life, but I could imagine. I can still remember imagining this particular snowflake I wrote about in my mind’s eye.

It still seems so strange to me that I can remember this and pretty much nothing else of my entire preschool experience. In fact, I hardly remember anything from my entire grade school experience. Wow! Cue the memory spark!! The moment those words made it from keyboard to page, I remembered a compliment I received on a line I wrote in my 3rd grade “Squiggle Book”– which is a story for another day! How interesting that these are the memories my brain chooses to recall. I suppose it is no wonder I kept writing and writing all these years.

Have you ever received a compliment that stuck with you years later? Do you have a hobby that began because of a compliment? Tell us about it in the comments below!

60th Anniversary Poem

Pearls of Wisdom from

Grandma and Grandpa Harvey

On Your 60th Wedding Anniversary

She was only nineteen and he just twenty-two

When they met inside the Cowley church to say their first “I do’s.”

Fast forward twenty years and you’ll find them dressed in white,

Four children by their side this time and nothing’s felt more right.

Another twenty years go by and a celebration’s in full swing

After 40 years together, “Love is a Many-Splendored Thing.”

Fast forward twenty more years and you find them here today

Celebrating 60 years—a lifetime together!—built the Harvey way.

How in the world did they do it? How did they actually survive?

When there is so much more to it than simply staying alive?!

The answers manifest quietly, as so many good things come.

Listen closely, then, as we recall their cherished pearls of wisdom.

“Remember who you are” Grandma Harvey told us from our youth

(Though sometimes easier said than done, we never forgot that truth.)

“Be productive, loyal, and honest in your life and in your work”

Grandpa Harvey taught us clearly these are duties we don’t shirk.

When it comes to your employment: “to thine own self be true”

After 22 years at Sweetheart Bread, this is something Grandpa knew.

“Bloom where you are planted, do the best with what you’ve got”

Grandma taught us this in word and deed – whether she realizes it or not!

“Family togetherness is vital to our lives,” as you both showed us with great care

Every game, concert, baptism or wedding, you have always been right there.

“Above all, worship the Lord and follow Him,” the supreme lesson you taught with love,

One you’ll no doubt still be teaching, long after you’ve gone above.

Fast forward twenty more years, who knows what lies in store?

As your children and posterity, could we possibly ask for more?

After everything you’ve given us, after all the love you’ve shown

After all the laughter and the tears, after all the ways we’ve grown

You gave us the gift of life itself!  We wouldn’t be here without you

So we’ll graciously accept what lies ahead because we know what’s true.

We know you’ll keep on living and giving and doing what you adore…

Grandpa speeding down the interstate, Grandma yelling “fore!”

Yes, we look forward to the next twenty years with hope from up above

As today we celebrate two ordinary people who built one extraordinary love!

Poem by Jenn Stewart

The Rest of the Story

When you live in small-town Wyoming, it only takes a few moments of introduction to discover your connection with someone else. You might have common friends from work, or you may know their family through another connection. The bottom line is you pretty much all know each other one way or another. This tight-knit community networking was a large part of how things got done in that area.

Remember Sister Buchanan from my Nursery Poem? Well, it took me a while before I realized she was connected to the Caracena family. My husband was good friends with Joe Caracena and it turned out that Joe’s wife Cristi was Sister Buchanan’s daughter. Small world! The above poem was written about Sister Buchanan’s parents, or Cristi’s grandparents. Perhaps it was the Nursery Poem that sparked the idea in Sister Buchanan, but somehow between the three of us, it was decided I would write a poem for the occasion that could be framed and given to the Harveys as a gift from their posterity.

In order to write a poem that really captured 60 years together, I felt I needed more information, even after interviewing Cristi and her mom and picking their brains. Cristi ended up providing me with a ton of background info. There were letters, journals, written memos and papers from her grandparents that I was given permission to sift through. I took my own notes and when all was said and done, I came up with the “pearls of wisdom” I discovered. After running them by Cristi and her mom, their misty eyes confirmed that the messages I gleaned from those pages were indeed reflective of the “Harvey way.”

I wrote the above poem and went back and forth with Cristi on all the fine details until it fully captured the exact sentiment she and her mom wished to convey through its message (for example, "Love is a Many-Splendored Thing" is a song written in 1955 played at their 40th wedding anniversary). This wasn’t the first time I wrote a poem for someone else, but it was definitely the first time I put this much effort into researching the subject of a poem before it was written. This poem was truly a labor of love and it was an honor to catch a glimpse into the lives of these wonderful people.

Have you ever spent a lot more time on something than you originally anticipated? Was the extra time and effort worth it? Feel free to share your story in the comments below.

Church Handout Poem

Woman at the Well

Woman at the well

Oh, the stories you could tell.

Many hardships you have seen,

And yet you sit, serene

Next to the Messiah who has come,

And proclaimed He is The One.

Though He knows your jaded past,

Tells you the way to peace—at last!

How many of us would also partake,

Even though He knows our every mistake?

Would we learn to forgive ourselves and drink,

Eager to live—or, would we be fearful and shrink?

Let us yearn for life, our own stories to tell,

Living our legacy, as women at the well.

Poem by Jenn Stewart

March 8, 2012

John 4:14 But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life.

The Rest of the Story

It wasn’t easy living in Wyoming. Besides the winters, there simply weren’t the kind of amenities around you might enjoy in a big city. There was no mall, no Costco. Heck, you almost had no neighbors. You really had to plan ahead; it was just a way of life. If you didn’t, you might end up stuck in a blizzard without a blanket. This meant you also watched out for your neighbors. You took care of each other because there simply was no one else around to do it. This way of life also applied to church.

Our church congregation was small and there was just no way around it—we had to chip in or there would be no church on Sundays. This meant you were often asked to perform multiple tasks that might be given to multiple people in a larger area. One of the tasks I was given in addition to leading the music and preparing the Sunday program was teaching the women of the church. During this time, I became fond of creating small handouts that recapped the main points of the lesson. I wanted to give these wonderful women something to ponder on throughout the week. I also made extras so we could take and share them with our neighbors. I used to hang them up on my own refrigerator door with a magnet throughout the week—or longer if I really liked the message.

I guess I became known for my handouts in addition to my poems. This particular poem/ handout was created because a fellow sister was in charge of an evening program and she asked if I would create a handout for it, a poem, perhaps?! Well, you know me … someone had to do it, so I gave it a go. I remember finding the above photo online and writing the letters “WOMAN AT THE WELL” down the left side of the page. This was one of those poems that practically wrote itself, as the words flowed easily onto the page with little effort. This doesn't always happen, but when it does, it is because an idea truly inspires me.

What inspires you? Do you have a hobby that comes easily to you? How do you share your talents with those around you? I’d love to hear the rest of your story below!

Nursery Poem

Good Seeds will Grow

Dear Sister Buchanan,

You held our tender hearts and hands

Each Sunday we were here,

You taught about our brother Christ

Each moment through the year.

You might think we won’t remember

As our memories start to fade,

The many lessons that you taught,

The fun handouts you made.

Truth is never ever lost

When taught right from the start,

Every lesson that you planted

Lies dormant in the heart.

Our memories may fade with time

But what you lodged will grow,

The Spirit will confirm the truth

From lessons long ago.

Though we’re growing up and moving on

We won’t forget all you’ve done

To shape our growing hearts and minds

Around the Holy One.

We will miss you so much next year!

Thanks for being the best Nursery teacher ever!

With Love,

The Stewart Twins

Poem by Jenn Stewart

December 18, 2006

The Rest of the Story

When we left South Dakota, it wasn’t by choice. After settling into life near the Airforce base, enjoying trips to the lake, a wonderful house with an unfinished basement in which to grow, and a brand new Toyota Tundra, life was picture perfect for about a year and a half. I can still remember the feeling I had every night going to bed in that home. My heart was bursting with gratitude for all our blessings and I thanked God for our wonderful life. Then one day my husband lost his job, and everything changed.

For three long months, I sent out resumes all across the US for my husband. As we struggled to make ends meet (I was not working at the time either – the twins had been my full-time job), we watched as our boat was repossessed, our truck was repossessed, and our home went into foreclosure. It was such an unexpected turn of events. As full as my heart had been, it felt equally torn apart. Finally, we got the long-awaited news. He not only had one job offer – but two! Life was taking us to either North Dakota or Wyoming, whichever gave my husband a start date first. Thank God for tender mercies. We ended up near those beautiful Big Horn Mountains for the next ten years, the place we still call “home.”

My husband ended up moving to Wyoming and starting his new job as the girls and I tried to sell our home back in South Dakota. Finally, just prior to the foreclosure being finalized, we sold our home, saved our credit, and made the move to a rental home in Wyoming that eventually became our own.

This is the back-story of the above poem. When we landed in Wyoming, I had never left my girls in the care of anyone other than my husband – ever! So, it was no surprise that there were some tears shed when I dropped them off in the new church nursery for the first time (in SD we were the nursery leaders, so they were used to being with us). It was so bad, the twins made themselves vomit into the trash can that first week because they were crying so hard (yes, I went back in to sit with them when it got that bad). I think there were a few more weeks of dry-heaving before they finally got used to being away from mom. Needless to say, I was very grateful they had such a wonderful and loving nursery teacher who was so much fun with the kids. In time, they grew to love going to nursery and it was all because of the love they felt from Sister Buchanan. I knew I wanted to do something special for her when the time came to move on. So, I bought her a bouquet of flowers and printed out the above poem on card stock, with the photo of the twins you see above at the bottom of it. I nestled the poem within the flowers and gave it to her after their last class together.

Have you ever given a gift to someone else and pretended it was from your child? Has someone ever helped your own children through a difficult life transition? I’d love to hear about it in the comments below.

Goodbye Poem

What's Left Unsaid

There are so many things

I wish I could say

but I can’t find the words to say them.

So many more feelings

are still in my heart

but I just can’t seem to convey them.

And as I struggle

to somehow let go

I sense understanding in your eyes.

You seem to see

what’s inside of me,

you see right through my disguise.

It helps to know that whatever I can’t 

tell you right now in words,

will still be communicated

through our hearts

and my message will still be heard.

Though the time has come

to say our farewell

I find so much comfort instead

to know my goodbye

means so much more

because you hear what’s left unsaid.

By Jenn

June 20, 1992

The Rest of the Story

Everyone who knows me knows I have a really bad memory. I mean it. I have a difficult time remembering what I did last week, let alone 28 years ago. I am amazed at people like my husband that seem to remember every single moment they’ve ever lived since age two. Thankfully various journals and poems I’ve written through the years have provided an anchor to my past. These words generally spark that ability to recall something I haven’t thought of in years.

Every now and then, however, I come across a poem I wrote and think to myself, when in the heck and why in the heck did I ever write this poem? I came across the above poem recently and found myself asking the same questions. I’ve wracked my brain trying to think of the circumstances surrounding it. The subject matter seems a bit mature for my high school self, based on the date it was written, so I am pretty sure I didn’t write this poem from experience. Cue the memory recall spark. I do have a vague memory of someone coming to me once and asking me to write a poem for them due to a similar situation. They needed to say goodbye to someone but were having a difficult time with it. I still don’t quite remember all the circumstances of how it all came about, but I’m pretty confident now that this poem was the result of a personal request from someone else.

I find this all very intriguing. To craft a well-written poem that captures the heart of an experience that I only learned about by proxy illustrates the power of rhetoric. I find it nothing short of incredible. The fact I could capture the sentiment shared with me and bring it to life on the page for someone else really blows my mind. Words are powerful.

What if instead of using words to help others, someone uses words to incite hate and enmity in others? It is a scary thought. Hitler’s propaganda comes to mind. It’s not the word themselves that are good or bad, but how the people behind the words decide to use them. This is why after discovering a love of words and the power they can wield, I decided long ago I would do everything in my power to use my affinity for words to uplift and inspire those around me. This is also why I tend to despise politics or sensational news media in general. I don’t like it when people use the power of words to manipulate or harm others.

This sentiment goes way back for me. It was my own father who led by example on this one. Though he had his own opinions about the scientific discoveries he made on a daily basis, he never tried to coerce anyone to his point of view. He presented all sides of an issue and felt the reader should come to their own conclusion about a topic based on all the evidence. That’s not to say he didn’t try and persuade people to his point of view. However, he wanted it to be on their terms, with all the facts at their disposal, not his. I think there is a fine line between persuasion (where the reader still has a choice) and coercion (where a reader's agency is manipulated so much it becomes in question or lost). I choose to follow in my father’s footsteps. I choose to support rhetoric that encourages the reader's full use of agency and self-discovery.

Do you have any ideals in your own life that you strive to meet on a daily basis? What is it that you stand for? Is there someone you admire who has stood for something? I’d love to hear about your experience in the comments below.