‘Fear’ and Other Poetry by Amy Foreman

Fear

A ballad

I said to Fear, “Away from here!”
And, softly, he withdrew.
But, lost in thought, I plain forgot
To bar the door anew.

So Faith and I sat down to try
And chat the night away.
But while we talked, outside, Fear stalked
And waited for his day.

That time came soon, next afternoon,
Once finished with my work.
I tidied up, sat down to sup,
Then started with a jerk.

From down the hall, an icy Pall
Came creeping to my chair.
He filled the room with horror’s gloom
And held me in his snare.

“Oh, Faith,” I cried, now terrified,
“Why aren’t you here with me?”
But Fear had moved in, unapproved,
And Faith I could not see.

The sun now set, I felt a sweat
So clammy on my skin.
Anxiety came over me,
And panic from within.

Familiar Dread had stopped me dead;
I struggled now to act.
To overcome, to not succumb
To keep my mind intact.

In my despair, I breathed a prayer:
“God, help my unbelief.
Don’t leave me now; please don’t allow
This evil, wretched Thief,

This eerie Wraith to steal my Faith
To fill this house with fright.
Please fortify my mind so I
Can conquer Fear tonight.”

And suddenly, I felt him flee,
That dreadful, clammy Ghost.
As Faith came in where Fear had been
Expelled him from his post.

Unwanted guests are often pests,
Unwanted Fear is worse.
He sneaks around without a sound;
He poisons with his curse.

But now I know to overthrow
His monstrous, grasping plan
By asking aid when I’m afraid
From Heaven’s Guardian.

Loving My Neighbor

A ballad

Poet’s Note: This was written in a writer’s group, where we had the following prompt: “Imagine if for the next twenty-four hours you had to wear a cap that amplified your thoughts so that everyone within a hundred yards of you could hear every thought that passed through your head . . .”  (Stephen and Ondrea Levine)

I stepped outside my house today
And saw the neighbor’s kids at play . . .
Their matted hair and tattered clothes,
Those muddy feet, that runny nose.

And as I ambled down my lane,
I saw their dog was off his chain
And digging for some buried bone
In my yard that had just been mown.

Their mailbox tilted toward the street
Just ready to admit defeat
As unsuccessfully it tried
To keep three weeks of bills inside.

The yard was littered, thick, with trash,
From junky cars and cigar ash
To paper plates and broken toys
And diapers from the baby boys.

And, once again, like other days
I thought, while walking, on their ways:
Their laziness and all the grime,
The filth and squalor all the time.

But this time it was not the same,
For all four kids now quit their game.
The youngest hung their heads down low
As, cheerily, I waved “hello.”

But then the older boy stood up
And called out to his errant pup,
Then, looking at me, almost scared,
But angry too, he, soft, declared:

“I hope you know that every thought
You’re thinking of us in this spot,
We’ve heard as plain and clear as day.
We know you think we’re in the way,

And dirty, filthy, sloppy folks
Whose mother sleeps and drinks and smokes
And never cleans the house or yard–
But let me tell you: it’s been hard.

“See, Mom’s been poorly for awhile,
I know we try to laugh and smile
And play here like it’s all okay,
But Doctor says that any day

The angels might come down and take
Her up to God, so she won’t ache.
And all of us are worried bad,
Since already, God took our Dad.

“So, though it’s messy, ma’am, you see
That we’ve been worried as can be.
I hope you can forgive this mess,
And, could you, when you see us, bless

Our family, while we walk this road?”
I looked at him, eyes overflowed.
My surface judgments from before
Had missed the suff’ring at my door.

Amy Foreman hails from the southern Arizona desert, where she homesteads with her husband and seven children.  She has enjoyed teaching both English and Music at the college level, but is now focused on home-schooling her children, gardening, farming, and writing. Her blog is theoccasionalcaesura.wordpress.com