All posts tagged: poetry

They Have Nice Flushers Here

This one is for Ben, my little noticer at the ripe age of three, who notices things that seem trivial to you and to me. Flushers are what gets him of late Flushers all kinds he thinks are just great! “They have a nice flusher” he states upon entering The loo at the grocers without any mentoring From me or from dad or grandma or gramps The boy loves his flushers, his flushers are champs. Upon going to church, the first thing we must do is drop what we’re doing and go to the loo. “Hey mom, they have nice flushers here too!” He says as we enter Unbeknownst to him that he is the center of chuckles inside of the mind of a lady Just on her way out to tell of that baby who liked the flusher in the church loo What a funny thing to notice thought she of my B Why does he like flushers of old and of new? Beats the heck out of me Says me the mommy I …

Moms Have Super Powers

I am your mother. I have super powers, powers beyond compare. The power to make you laugh so hard you nearly pee your pants from  just one twitchy stare. I can light you up with just one glance, my smile can make your day. My hugs, my squeezes, they are what pleases your heart…they melt your fears away.   You are my children, extensions of me. You have the power to fill me with glee, with madness, with sadness, with anger, with joy, with pride, with fear, with happiness, my boys. My boys fill me with power. The power to love, to live, to give freely. To be myself without fear to feel accepted so deeply. ©Marie Stephens 2014 All rights reserved


Went out for a walk,  ran into you. Wanted to talk, but you had so much to do. Staring at your screen, staring down as you walked. More important than me was that screen, so I walked. I walked alone and I waved so long to you. You, with more important things to do. Like texting, or Facebook, or surfing the web, from your hand held device, or iPhone instead. Instead of looking up, at the world all around you, You chose your electronics, your wifi, to surround you. I’m no better than you, rest assured. As I point one finger at you, there is not a first, nor a second, but a third. A third digit pointing right back at me. I have counted them, yes, there are three. That’s three times I can guarantee. At least three times I have been guilty of the same damn thing. Ignoring my loved ones as they have tried to connect. But I had too much to do. Too many friends to request, too many pictures to …

The Farmer’s Gift to Me

            Beans are beautiful even in the fall. When the sky is crisp and blue When the beans have dried inside their shells to a warm and tannish, hue. Those beans are lovely, they provide so much, soft and fuzzy their shells to touch. I am rambling, this I know, but to these beans, so much I owe. Gratitude for family who comes together. Each fall, each October or September. To watch the harvest is such a treat, to see my brothers, my whole family. We come together, we share a day or two, to watch the beans and tractors brew, that earthly concoction of chaff and seed. The dust it drives us all to sneeze. But with that dust, we all receive another gift.. Those Iowa sunsets, so colorful, from the drift, of all that dust those combines made, So many colors in so many shades of orange, gold, purples and pinks, Our sky is painted with earthly inks. Ramblings, by Marie Stephens  Copyright 2013

My Cup Runs Over

My Cup Runs Over written by Marie Stephens Copyright 2013 All Rights Reserved Sometimes I feel like I’ll never fit in. Like no one around me wants me to win. To win at this life where I have been placed. To conquer the challenges I have faced. And then I remember, the Lord God Almighty Has chosen ME ever so wisely To be His child, Entrusted with gifts Gifts that only I can give. What are my gifts? I’m not quite sure yet So I act like myself, I try doing my best At whatever it is to be thrown my way: Different Things, Different people, Different events each day. I just act like myself. I do what I can. I take one step at a time, Knowing God is my biggest fan. Sometimes I stumble. Sometimes I fall. Sometimes I crumble. And then I must call. Call on the Lord To please pick me up. When my heart is left empty, To please fill my cup. Then my cup runs over. My cup overflows, …