Tag Archives: poem

Wishing you a happy Thanksgiving

Scan_20151103“Give thanks to the Lord who is good, whose love endures forever.”  (Psalm 107:1)






If I had been the only one

                                                                                                      by Rosemary Heddens


If I had been the only one when you created me,

You still would have made a wondrous world

With everything I need.


If I had been the only one, you still would have sent your son

To be my savior and my friend,

To tell me of your love.


If I had been the only one, He still would have died for me,

To free me from my sinful self

And bring me to eternity.


I know I’m not the only one for in this vast world I see

Millions who long to hear your voice,

Who call upon your name.


I know I’m not the only one; I could not make that claim.

Although I’m not the only one,

You love me as if I am.


I wish you all a blessed Thanksgiving filled with friends, family, good food and God’s love.



Looking Forward To Fall

rosemaryHaving spent the summer battling the weeds on my two-and-a-half acres of land, I must admit that I can hardly wait for fall. Yanking out weeds as tall as I am by the roots is a task that gets old quick. To make matters worse, our lawn tractor seemed to be on the fritz more often than it was operational.

Maybe because I grew up in Phoenix, or maybe because much of Chino Valley seems to be various shades of brown, I do have a small lawn that I try to cultivate. In my on-going efforts to get the grass green and the weeds gone, I purchased something that I thought would feed the grass and kill the weeds. Apparently,  I bought the stuff that kills the lawn and feeds the weeds. You’ve never seen a healthier crop of dandelions in your life than I have growing happily in my lawn. My lawn, in spite of all my efforts, has some patches of green in among the brown and bare spots.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, or so they say. With that in mind, I’ve decided to look upon the dandelion as a beautiful flower and just let nature have its way with my lawn for what little remains of the summer.

Here is a poem that expresses my newfound feelings.

                                        THE KING OF THE WEEDS

                                                             by Rosemary Heddens

                    The other weeds hide deep in the lawn,

                    Bending and twisting, too fearful to be seen.

                    But the king of the weeds stands straight and tall,

                    Bearing his golden crown high above the blades of grass.

                    “You are just a weed,” he is told.                       

                    To this he shakes his head,

                    Spreading his seeds across the earth,

                    Knowing that he is more than just a weed,

                    He is a dandy lion!   IMG_0924

Crazy about crayons

crayonsWith school starting parents are or have recently been school shopping. One item sure to be found in nearly every cart is a box of crayons. I remember getting a new box of crayons as being one of the highlights of back to school. Even now, I occasionally  find myself picking one up in a store.  I love looking at the neat rows arranged by color. I love smelling them, counting them, and reading the names of the colors. Recently, there has been a renewed interest in coloring as an adult activity. The benefits of coloring are being recognized as a way to wind down after a busy, stressful day. For all those who also cherish this time-honored treasure, here is my ode to a box of crayons.


                        I have a box of ninety-two;

                        It looks like I have more than you.

                        There is green in every shade,

                        Avocado, emerald, jade.

                         I have so many reds it’s scary.

                        There’s rose, fire engine, and cranberry.

                        I could start a yellow craze

                       With lemon, buttercup and maize.

                        I think my favorite ones are blue,

                       Like midnight, sky, aqua and true.

                       Purple shades are truly delicious.

                      There’s grape and plum and violet dishes.

                      Oh! Pink! How can I forget you!

                      You’re shocking, hot, or pale as dew.

                      Look at all the oranges I’ve got.

                     There’s peach and flame and apricot.

                     What’s that? You have a hundred and four?

                     Well, I guess then you have more.

                     Maybe the sun will melt yours down

                     To just one color….yucky brown.

Celebrating forty-five years together

me and you looking goodForty-five years ago on this day, August 1, 1970, Craig and I were married. In honor of our time together, I am posting this poem I wrote several years ago.



Of All the Men in My Life

by Rosemary Heddens

I think of him often—

That young man I married so many years ago.

Quiet, a little awkward,

But so certain he knew where he was going,

And so determined to get there,

A man with enough dreams to last a lifetime.


From time to time, I see him—

In a shy smile,

In a crinkled brow when he is deep in thought.


Now an older man has taken his place—

Strong and tender,

Rugged and soft.

He has made his place in the world,

Confident, contented with his life,

He does not mourn for unattained goals,

But holds fast to those dreams that still remain.


I wonder at the thrill I still feel

From the touch of this man

With whom I have spent

More than half of my life.


Little by little, I see another man emerge—

A man with less urgency in his step,

Wanting to be at home with his family,

More salt than pepper in his hair now,

Wearing glasses as he reads the evening paper.


I must confess a certain excitement

When I consider getting to know

The man who will share my remaining years.

He will be like the others in so many ways,

And yet different and new.


A younger friend asks me

Whether I have ever found my life dull

Married to the same man for so many years.

I smile and shrug, unsure what to say,

Unable to tell her of all the men in my life,

And how I’ve loved each one.