On letting go

This past decade, or two,
She was their,

My greatest desire,
Husband and father.

Now she takes flight,
and trust her I must.

Once I left my mom,
three years nearly.

With narley a call or letter.

Yet love me she did,
From a distance.

Now trust her I must,
that return she will,
as I did too.

Noah let loose three birds,
and the rescue was sure,
when return, they did not.

Yet return I did,
and rebuild we did.

Now to my Father and Daughter,
do we thus now begin,
anew.

When joy returns

I am thinking thinking about pain and suffering and endurance, grace, gratitude, cancer, remission, being run over by a cement truck, steak knifes and forearms.

Ever wondering when joy will return. Angry, very angy and gratitude still.

Wales and Duck Billed Platypuses and the joy of Gods humorous creations. Quasar, dark matter,  the smile on my sons face when I come home.

That their is light and God will send many Samwise Ganges when Mr. Frodo can no longer carry the load.

https://youtu.be/9hN9c3RQpZs

The ring we share

It was a simple sterling wedding band purchased at a pawn shop.  It was discarded by another when its value in cash exceeded its value in sentiment.  He wore it daily as a reminder of the covenant they shared.  It was not the first band, that band stayed behind in the jewelry box.  It was too valuable and easily damaged.  The first would not endure long, in the room where he washed clothes to feed their growing family.

She is gone now,

yet they are one.

This we share, now.

The three of us.

A covenant,

a promise,

a ring.

Once it was shared,

by two, then came two more,

and the temple ceremony,

then two more,

Dad gave me the ring,

years ago.

Now four more are bound,

by the ring, the promise,

and the covenant.

My father gave me his second wedding band, which I now wear.
I have three siblings and two children.

He lives with death.

He lives with death,
Or is it life.

T'is life to love,
This all it is.

He does it all,
To come to this.

To this I come,
Or do I leave

To leave and come,
This life is all.

Steven Bassett

Wrote this in Aug 2015 in the midst of my wifes cancer when we believed she was terminal.

Things tobe Grateful for

Grateful for the amazing gift of doubt...
Being run over by a cement truck, and being alive...
For the gift of poetry that follows ...
No firearms in the house on my darkest day ...
The gift of courage to help preserve my wife's life...
For a wife and two beautiful children ...
For a surgery at birth that allowed me to live more then one week.
That my parents learned to forgive, forget and luv again for nearly 50 years...
For being born sterile and the opportunities this gift offered my children ....
That they learned to luv their birth mother ...
That she was an important part of their lives ...
That my brother and sisters learned to forgive, forget and to luv again ...

That I worship a limited god who is blessed with sufficent power to redeem my soul.  ...

For John Milton, William Tyndale, John Bunyan, Isaac Newton,George MacDonald, G.K. Chesterton and C.S. (Jack) Lewis.

* My god has freely chosen to limit his own power to allow me the fullest expression of will.

On incomplete poetry and revealed thought

Why doe'th he write it,
Or doe'th it right him.

These thoughts incomplete,
They revele'th their in.

To fill in the blanks,
Tis but given them now.

T'is his not to seek,
but to them to reveal.

To both, come'th now,
And it filleth their in.

Facebook July 2015

Only to believe

To know, not now,
to believe, then only

So certain, I was,
in my youth

Now then does,
begin old age.

This, then, uncertainty.

T'is a good thing?
This uncertainty?

Comes a stretching.
Thus a reaching.

Rest, not, now.
No sense of piece.

Must now strive,
to gather then thus.

The pieces.

Not to rest,
then to strive.

The answers, then come,
increasingly still.

Thus then, now.

Only, to believe.

On harvesting truth

4 For behold the field is white already to harvest; and lo, he that thrusteth in his sickle with his might, the same layeth up in storethat he perisheth not, but bringeth salvation to his soul;

5 And faith, hope, charity and love, with an eye single to the glory of God, qualify him for the work.

6 Remember faith, virtue, knowledge, temperance, patience, brotherly kindness, godliness, charity, humility, diligence.

7 Ask, and ye shall receive; knock, and it shall be opened unto you. Amen. (Doctrine and Covenants 4)

It struck me today an additional meaning of this scripture.  I am learning some of the process Joseph used in restoring the church.

He gathered it more like Ruth the gleaner then fully firmed ex nihilo. 

The notebooks where the early text begin to form show signs of collaboration almost like he was seeking spiritual confirmation from others he had learned to trust.

Joseph saught to democratize the prophetic voice.  He wanted all to have a revelation.

On becoming friends.

This is where we first,
became known,
this one and I.

We where not friends,
far too long.

Too much alike,
to ever be the same.

We exercised our demons,
together,
a-part.

It is asphalt now,
as it was then,

this the playground,
and our friendship.

Have we changed much,
this parking lot,
and I.

Does difference, make us the same?

How much of our distance was of my fault.

Then the comes the letter,
we are different no more,
now always the same.

I mourn now the choices we make,
the pain I did not remove,
the light I did not bring.

Till we meet again my friend,

I exercise my demons
and seek the light.

*revised July 2018 from a poem posted to Facebook in July 2015 on the suicide of a friend Kelley Niederhauser.

It is a parking lot made from the playground of the old. Woodruff Elementary School in Logan Utah.

Kelley wrote me a letter when we left on our mission's.  I still long for the memories we did not share.  If we had reconciled sooner or I had shared myself more, their might have been a different ending.

When I had my darkest day no firearms were in the home.  Still understand do I and greave the loss of what might have been.

On grandpas anvil

Grandpa's anvil
sits in the garage.

He used it to create,
horseshoes.

We use it to repair,
cars.

Dad tells me it left home, once.
Grandpa went to fetch it home.

A neighbor had a need,
then returned it, not.
Grandpa pulled out a switch,
and beat that anvil.

Grandpa was a small man,
over the shoulder he carried it,
told that anvil never to leave home again.

This story my Dad tells me about of his granddad.

Passed down through the ages,
the story, and anvil.
Always together,
never apart.

What will they, carry, down.
My children, when gone, I am?

This my Luv, and the truth, I share.

The poet

This, did I not ask,
for.

to be a poet

not like a violinist,
or pianist.

A talent, to be selected,
and matured.

It is imposed,
when it comes.

This newness,
this muze.

It comes to me,
unapposed.

Like the morning rain,
to the flowers.

The mouse seeking,
for the cat

This then does,
feed my soul.

*C.S. lewis said as an atheist his search for God was like the mouse's search for the cat. "Surprised by Joy"

-- 

Steven Bassett

Luv is a verb

This new word, com'th to me.

This verb, this new thing,
that comes to me now.

Is it naught?,
this new thing,

How to do it,
Not.

This thing, this new thing.

It is painful, and with it comes growth.

When I choose it, we both grow.

This thing to come,
years now.

When it does, I am greatful,
for the gift.

We share, now.

Difficult things, and the dance

Difficult things, I seek then to know.
Yet thus to explain, then able,  e'm not.

I ponder them now,
this many years

These thoughts, then to share ,
thus, desire I now.

Why do you not,
understand me then?

To win an argument,
seek, I then not.

I want to share, a truth.

Maybe the day, will come,
when prepared to receive, you are

Or better able, to explain, I am.

Till then, shall we dance,
and be friends.

The Negotiation

Now begins...

The third marriage,
To the first wife.

Began then the first,
Young love,
full of possibility.

Two comes the babies,
when no life, we create,

Together.

From one,

who luvs us,

All.

Then three comes the time,
The babies now raised,
Our parents come now,
To the end of their days.

That this now complete,
The promises kept,
The cycle complete,
The covenants shared.

Tobe Unborn and Luved

Dana was my name.

Dana Allan ...

Prepared, not was Momma,
for my birth.

This then, the I.U.D.

Four others already had she,

and with Daddy that made five.

Luv'd him, did she,
and them, too.

Life is hard, real hard.  

She saught to fill his needs,
and there's too.

Young she was, and maturing too.

Now I understand,
I hope they do, too.

Then comes grace,
and forgiveness.

I hope you are luv"d,
remembered,
and mourned.

(Note an I.U.D is an intrauterine device designed to prevent conception.
My Mom was wearing one the day I was born. 
She desire not my birth, yet name me she did,
and mourned my loss the remainder of her days.)

.

The Handmaiden ToBe

Their she lay, at Boaz foot ...

Tobe covered, by the hem,
Of the covenant.

Then on to bring forth the child,
of Naomi, and Boaz.

That the inheritance and covenant,
may continue.

This then the promise was made,
and the promise was kept.

To the bring forth, the Kings.

First David, then Jesus,

To serve them all.

What Remains

Caught by the grandkids ...

mak'n out, at the cemetary.

Their, were they,  
tobe, with their daughter,

and what remains.

It had been long, too long

this last, separation

Luv takes time ...

This long time.
it simmers, and bubbles, and over flows.

Then what remains, in old age?

How to rekindle,
that midnight cigarette?

This then, they do now, here,

with their daughter, son, and grandkids.

The Other Handmaiden

What of the other,
handmaiden.

She who bore,
the Son of God.

Was she like the former.

Ruth bore, the son of Naomi.
The grandfather, of David.

So to the handmaidens,
now we do ...

This then honor,
the Mother Of All.

"Entreat me not to leave thee ...

Thy people shall be my people ...
Thy god is my God."

He who bore the sins of the world.
Born of a handmaiden.

A gift to The Mother,
Eternal, in her home above.

We speak not of her,
this then, must we change.

This then to honor,
them all.

That then all of the handmaidens,
to the Mother, Eternal...

May they share. The fruits of their womb.

Eternal.

A Handmaids Tale

Ruth was Naomi's handmaiden.
This fruit of her womb, given as a gift,
and a sign of love.

I have know Naomi,
I have know Ruth.

I choose to luv,
them both.

One for the gift of life,
the other for the gift of her life.

For to cherish the children,
both they do.

On Conception

She remembered the night,

Concieved, I was ...

This most memorable occasion.

At my dad's sister's,

in St George, Utah.

I, the only child, 

born, in the summer,

in the afternoon.

What brings one to travel 

to St George,

in the winter?

To see Dads Father,

on his winter flight, 

to Utah's Dixie?

Grandpa didn't like the cold

One son, she had, already,

Momma never had trouble,

making babies.

What then followed,

was the difficulty.

Her Momma had 10 children, 

in 14 years.

Momma offered her life,

everytime she delivered a child.

Her blood pressure was high.

The doctor feared to lose her.

Her last child, Dana Allen,

was lost in utero.

I  often think of Momma.

Her greatest fear, 

too many children.

Mine,

Never to father one.

Prepared, to have another child,

she was not .

She mourned his loss,

the remainder of her days.

I have fathered children,

a gift from one,

who luv's us.

It is said part of the baby,

remains with the momma,

after the birth.

I wonder how much of Momma ... 

remains with me?

--

Steven Bassett

--

Steven Bassett

The danger, was there.

Slow down He said.
There is danger ahead,
slow down.

No danger was there
I saw it not.

Thus, I slowed down.

I have learned to heed his council.
That is why I preside now,
over his mission,
and 240 of his children.

That nothing happened.
Did I hear Him wrong?

This I did not!
I know his voice,
as a child knows his father.

Then on I go,
to preside again.

Because I headed his voice,
nothing, was there.

On this Mother's Day

To this, to then.
This Mother's Day,

To then, to this,
Go forth, and now

To Joy go forth,
to share it now.

To rise, to fall
then onward go.

To luv, my Mom,
and then my wife.

To bring the joy,
then, now we share.

Then on, to forth,
to our daughter now.

On Mothers Day

To Mothers, this day,
Then not my best.

To this, then Mothers,
Then tobe.

She loved me, then,
Now, both they do.

The first, then Mom,
now then, my wife.

To honor, both then
This then, I do.

Then to another,
She then, will be.

Mothers, till then,
They all, then be.

This then , this poem

To separate God, from my culture. 
This then, this poem
Is, tobe....

Caffeine and the Word of Wisdom

He said not to drink caffeine,
the minister did,
if i wanted to go on a mission
then drink it not,

it is law 
Gods law,
the word of wisdom.

I was then faithful.
To the law.

or was I?

I potted the plant

Nephi, cut off, the head of Laban ...

I potted the plant.

if I were but more, faithfull

would I still pot the plant?

Death comes knocking at our door,

urging me to let it in ...

but then I potted the plant.

Nephi lopped off the head, 

to preseve,.

the history,

of the family.

I potted the plant

to preserve,

life, of the one.

I then free to choose,

my actions this day.

The consequence less,

and the price,

I too pay.

On mommas poem

I found the poem, today.
the one to daddy,
before he was daddy.

Momma had the prettiest penmanship,
but spell, she could not,
to save her life.

I loved to read, mommas letters.

To me, she wrote one,
when I broke my arm,
as a child.

I found it in the baby book ...
the one she started,
but never completed ...

Their was a shadow, on the book,
left by the trauma, of my surgery,
at birth.

Momma luved Daddy,
the kind of luv that stays,
and works things out.

I want that kind of luv,
for my wife and children.

To stay and work things out.

Maybe someday,
they will find my letters, and poems,
and feel my luv for
my wife, and their grandmother.

When we started the war

It began in Daviess County.

We the persecuted ones,

we left New York

we left Kirtland

we left Missouri

we left Illinois

then came Utah, and Mountain Meadows,

but then we started the war.

In Far West, on July 4 1838, we said no more.

Sidney Rigdon, and The Salt Sermon.

We warned the Missourians,

what would happen,

if thy continued, 

then, we burned their homes,

and destroyed their goods

Because we said, no more

Now we are alone at Hauns Mill,

because, He said no more,

They are My children too ...

our homes destroyed, because,
He said no more.

Now we learn at Liberty Jail-Temple

to say no more, and learn to serve and protect

This, then, his way, now.

Then on, to be alone, 

no more ...

Into the Danger Zone

It was a Kenny Loggins night,

There by the banks of the old canal,
behind the elementary school,
theme from "Top Gun",
on the WalkMan.

This place, full of memories, bad ...
and good, on the highway,
to the danger zone

She was his first, and still his only ...

Tomorrow, at the Temple,
they will covenant to be one.

Together, they will share,
This ride, into the wind.

But for now, He thinks
Of the dance, to come.

This life, together, and apart.

They Danced

Why continue, the dance.

Nearly 50 years, separated only by death.

She really wanted the 50, years.

Come together, separate, then together ...
Again.

Their had been other lovers but only one
Real, luv.

Why continue the dance?

She really luved him but life,
With him, was hard.

She never let anyone close, really close

But the dance they shared,
The life they shared.

It ment so much, to them, and the children.

Is love then truly an act and not a feeling.

To endure the heartache and pain.

This then the dance, together and apart.