The Walnut Grove TreeThe Tree Enormous their eyes bend towards me mightiest, most majestic my boughs twist and turn upward, expanding transcending towards glory I stand in the Walnut Grove My stories untold will die with me the tree by Gabby Franze

The Blue River Tree

Enormous-

their eyes bend towards me

mightiest and most majestic

my boughs twist and turn

upwards expanding

transcending glory.

I stand

in the walnut grove

my stories untold

will die with me-

the tree-

by Barb Franzen

Love Poem to the Platte River

Last night, main street had that small town summertime feeling…A group was eating in the park,  a block away, an older gentleman was doing his mowing, Sassy my Siamese chased a squirrel up a tree…A neighbor’s faucet was running. I got a paper and pen and tried to say what it is that I feel for you.  I’m about to leave for school so I’ll be moving away but you’ve been my friend and confident during a difficult time.  I’m going to miss you….It began to rain along with streaks of lightning and thunder-the kind where the sky cracks into a thousand pieces-sounds that carry me  down stream to a place called ecstasy. Anyway this is my ode to you, Platte River…I’ve loved you ever since I was tiny and minnows ran between my legs.

Platte River flowing, sand and water, my special place-

a piece of land, soother of my soul.

You inspire fires that burn within.

Starlight, moonlit nights, nature’s symphony at play

I dip my feet in the water, then swirling, whirling, I tumble, returning to rest.

The fire crackles as breezes caress and slow the racing of my mind

Rising I walk beneath giant cottonwoods that grow beside your dreamlike streams.

Rain falls and I reach high catching drops that come from heaven downward  

between the tree’s branch and bough…

Thunder’s sudden crash breaks loose the shell that binds my hidden grief.

Crying, I begin to weep, my tears wash away- disappearing down stream.

I’m infused with a lightness named relief.

Fragile, I emerge agile like the deer who leaps over boundaries,

sailing free through the air.

Returning to the stream, I pretend it’s winter on the Platte

a time when ice, magnificent and majestic, crashes.

I watch as it sails swiftly by.  Boldly I jump aboard, and when morning comes

I find myself in the midst of spring.

Surrounded by the lily white and pastels, their  petals soft of color,

the dark of before is gone. 

I look ahead,  gathering  flowers for strength before warmer airs

lift me into summer.

So here we are river Platte. You carried me from season to season

As I metamorphosed complete, the one I was meant to be.

I’m packed and ready to depart for ports unknown, however small or big the risk

  but someday in the winter of my years,

I’ll return to this spot of sand and water-you and I again touching

Until then, I will keep you  in the womb of   my heart

                      Barb Franzen

The Center of My Heart-Pine Lake

Near our cabin

Blue River Prose: A Sunday On the Farm-Candle Glow Dreams-Barb Franz...

Blue River Prose: A Sunday On the Farm-Candle Glow Dreams-Barb Franz...: D ad had assigned himself Mom’s keeper. He would tease her just to make her laugh. Why not? She was beautiful. Celeste loved to lo...

A Sunday On the Farm-The Rag Princess Notes-Passages and Poetry ·

Dad had assigned himself Mom’s keeper. He would tease her just to make her laugh. Why not? She was beautiful. Celeste loved to look at her. She was fairly tall and thin with a sad, but beautiful, smile. Dad with his olive tones and twinkling eyes, was outgoing and a jokester. He could make anyone laugh-not that he didn’t have a temper when needed- but never with Mom or his kids. Dad took charge of Sundays when the deep snows came. After church, he made a big pot of his chili and a huge bowl of mashed potatoes. Everyone would sit there overindulging. They did this because the soup really was good, and because Dad took such delight in their praise and refills. Afternoons called for checkers, cards, and other board games. The house filled with moans and laughter depending on who won and who lost. Finally, it would be time for their favorite radio shows. Mom won the radio at a carnival. It was an RCA. The town was giving it away as a local business gift -Mom had gone into shock refusing to go up on stage, Dad had finally taken over with the situation  "-Shirley if you don't go up on stage to claim the thing, I'm carrying you up there. " Everyone in the crowd laughed and somehow Shirley found the courage to go up the steps. 

Upon returning home, Shirley's emotions had come rolling out when she realized what she'd won. "I won! I won! I've never ever won anything," she said stupefied. It was Bonnie who broke Mother's spell.

    “Hey! Mom, look. Everything looks like it’s in the spotlight alongside of this beautiful piece of furniture-"It was true-The radio console was so beautiful that the dings and scratches and dents and dirt on the old stuff stuck out like a sore thumb-When people came to visit they laughed saying-If folks come to look at your stuff then they aren't really your friends now are they? " Shirley agreed-It was the fabulous music and the shows that were important anyway-although the RCA really was about the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.