A Keepsake

By Laura M. Newland

A mothers thoughts of life and her family

• Language: English
• Publisher: Excel Book Writing
• Release date: Nov 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9798869027191

Book preview

SELF

A Keepsake

Just open this book

And then turn a page,

Read the words written here.

Some showing with age.

Those marked in age

Are the ones we hold dear,

Tell the stories of loved ones

In each passing year.

Those written in recent years

Could be fiction or true,

But hope will be interesting

As meant to do.

Some are really comic,

And some seem so sad

But for an amateur in writing

Hope not too bad.

Some are misspelled

Or written in haste,

Not up to standard verse,

Which seems a waste.

Some not lined correctly

Couldn't be in modern style,

But to me, they mean very much

As I place them in file.

Many hours have slipped by

As I took pencil in hand,

So read the words carefully

And you will understand.

The things I tried to tell you   

That means so much to me,

I did try to write poetry,

As you can surely see.

No one could make mistakes like these

And live to tell it,

Great big ones, little tiny ones,

As I tried to spell it.

I have used capitals,

Commas, verbs, and cons,

Just look past the mistakes

And keep reading on.

So I give you these poems

In this little book,

You’ll know Mom wrote them

With your first look.

As I wanted to give you something

I really did create,

Treasure it in future years,

For it's a Keepsake

Your Mom

Lura M. Newland

Hobby of Mine

I have a hobby I like to work on,

Just jotting down little words.

They could be about most anything,

Even include the little birds.

I don't have much education;

That's the reason I can't spell,

So I just box them away

And don't even try to sell.

For that part really would be a failure

And just a great big flop

But I just like to write the notes.

There seems no place to stop.

I write of people, flowers, or places.

Not anything much about them to say,

Only I've been there or want to go,

And I know there'll be no pay.

Would I want pay for all the chatter

That doesn't end anywhere

Just put a pen in my hand

And I'll stick to the old rocking chair.

I may write a foolish poem

Or could even write a letter

You'd get tired reading before you finished

For something to do, for the better.

So it could be a crazy thing

Or could it be something more worthwhile

It could have jokes wrote in it

And could even cause a smile.

We cater to the more serious things

That might bring tears to the eye.

I specialize more to fiction things

And happenings of family doings, and why.

Many things I have written

About my family, that is true

Would that I could erase part of them?

That might not interest you.

So that's the way the notes add up.

That might end in a little Pome

I do my best thinking or writing

When I am left alone.

When the noises are all silenced,

And I pick up a pen to write.

The words that formed in my mind 

During the long old dark night.

So now, to bring to an end

To all the little words in a line,

It could be verse, note, or prose

That mourns up that Hobby of Mine.

Writer's Heaven

Lura M. Newland

Just Me

I'm just a plain old grandma, I guess

My age could be 60, or would it be less.

But that just doesn't really matter

But to get on with the endless chatter.

My poem could be short or a little long,

And it doesn't consist of a song.

But made up of a few crazy lines

And nothing about it to boast or shine.

But that's neither here nor there

But just give rue my old rocking chair.

Then put a pen in my hand

But I won't scribble anything grand.

But with you, in writing word, I'll share.

You can call it to verse if you dare.

Oh yes, it’s a hobby, I confess

In poems for the G. I.'s, I stress.

And yours for the asking, my son

Could be a dozen or just one.

My poems I do not or cannot sell

And my age, I shouldn't tell.

So we'll just let it go at that

And carry on with the endless chat.

And if you could be just twenty-two

That's just something short of Heaven for you.

My age, if I told you, would you squeal?

No, you just wouldn't be a heel.

So here goes, we'll say it's over seven

Could it be just twenty-three or six times eleven?

Ha! Ha! I got you on that, didn't I?

I could be a peppy old sinner and sly.

So about my age, I'll let you bet

And my race isn't told just yet.

So figure years all out, the how and the why

But it couldn't be over a million, oh my.

I could be tall or a little short

And I do like music and a few sports.

I could be lean or a little fat,

So you can also figure out that.

I could be dull, witty, plain, or silly

But you sure can figure I'm a dilly.

You wouldn't be breaking any law

For my person, you never saw.

So come on, my soldier son, Let's just have a little fun.

Could I be an uncle, a cousin, or an in-law?

No, I think you can call me just plain old Grand I aw.

To clear up the mystery of this story for so long.

You can very well see it isn't a popular song.

But the lame old jokes of a crazy old woman.

But then, most of them just could be human.

So to bring to a close this silly endless chatter

It doesn't tell anything brilliant, but that doesn't