Judy Young lives in Elwood with ties to Brown County, Indiana. She is a member of Last Stanza Poetry Association. Her work has been published in Tipton Poetry Journal, Poetry Garden, Healer Spieler, Underneath the Juniper Tree, and in the book Poetic Portions. She released a collection of poetry, Wild Wood, in 2014.
Birthday
It’s your birthday
You would be forty-six
Instead of frozen at sixteen
I wonder if you would have been
A good dad
If you would have read
To your babies
As I read to you and your brothers and sisters
Would their favorites be yours
Would they smile at
Overheard on a Saltmarsh
Wynken, Blynken and Nod
Would they race to find the animals
In I Speak, I Say, I Talk
Don’t guess I’ll ever know
Future of My Past
In the future of my past
Sorrowful, bleak land
Filled with dark shadows and trees
Struggling to free myself
Threads of memories weave a net
To bind and drag me back
There is sunshine ahead
Smiles, warmth and joy of life
But now I scale the ravine of memories
I am swallowed by the past dead
How can I free myself from myself
Silver Threads
Spiders spinning silver webs
Glistening strands shining brightly
Hanging from cornstalks
Bushes, trees, and flowers
Hoping for meals before frost
Watching, I hope for thoughts
Poetic before my pragmatic
Cynical self takes charge
And does the laundry
Innocence
Daisies line the lane
Just waiting to be picked
Does he love me or love me not
Dust between my bare toes
Small wild ripe strawberries
Just waiting to be plucked
Sweet on my tongue
Red stain on my fingertips and lips
Blackberries still in bloom
Wildflowers, sweet Williams and such
Just waiting to be gathered
Wild perfume scents the air
And lines the dusty lane
The Resting Place
I like graveyards
Old ones are best
Maybe because
Of the large trees
That grow there
Especially the yews
Dark and somber
There is a peaceful purpose
In the rows
Not quite straight
Elaborately carved headstones
Naming the resident
Telling family history
Ages to the day
Of their time in sunshine
Man, woman, children
All tucked in
Under a thick sod quilt
~Judy Young
Birthday
It’s your birthday
You would be forty-six
Instead of frozen at sixteen
I wonder if you would have been
A good dad
If you would have read
To your babies
As I read to you and your brothers and sisters
Would their favorites be yours
Would they smile at
Overheard on a Saltmarsh
Wynken, Blynken and Nod
Would they race to find the animals
In I Speak, I Say, I Talk
Don’t guess I’ll ever know
Future of My Past
In the future of my past
Sorrowful, bleak land
Filled with dark shadows and trees
Struggling to free myself
Threads of memories weave a net
To bind and drag me back
There is sunshine ahead
Smiles, warmth and joy of life
But now I scale the ravine of memories
I am swallowed by the past dead
How can I free myself from myself
Silver Threads
Spiders spinning silver webs
Glistening strands shining brightly
Hanging from cornstalks
Bushes, trees, and flowers
Hoping for meals before frost
Watching, I hope for thoughts
Poetic before my pragmatic
Cynical self takes charge
And does the laundry
Innocence
Daisies line the lane
Just waiting to be picked
Does he love me or love me not
Dust between my bare toes
Small wild ripe strawberries
Just waiting to be plucked
Sweet on my tongue
Red stain on my fingertips and lips
Blackberries still in bloom
Wildflowers, sweet Williams and such
Just waiting to be gathered
Wild perfume scents the air
And lines the dusty lane
The Resting Place
I like graveyards
Old ones are best
Maybe because
Of the large trees
That grow there
Especially the yews
Dark and somber
There is a peaceful purpose
In the rows
Not quite straight
Elaborately carved headstones
Naming the resident
Telling family history
Ages to the day
Of their time in sunshine
Man, woman, children
All tucked in
Under a thick sod quilt
~Judy Young