in the church,
not the chapel.
you see.
or The Cultural Hall
this new family,
has been, and is now.
together, this day.
began together, a time ago.
plus two, began the journey
anew this day.
and continue,
this now.
“Out of the quarrel with others we make rhetoric; out of the quarrel with ourselves we make poetry.” ― William Butler Yeats
It was their first night together,
as a couple.
It was a family hunting trip,
with his parents.
They shared separate sleeping bags,
together.
His brother, questioned, their decision.
His brother, was enjoying the warmth,
of his sleeping bag,
with his new girlfriend.
Little did, his brother understand,
the nature,
of their future covenant's.
The promise of real intimacy,
if they kept that covenant.
The children that would come,
and their life together,
if they kept, their covenant.
She awakes in the morning,
to prepare for the coming day.
Husband, children
these always on her mind.
The coming projects,
and the ones past due.
These have been her life,
these past, coming years.
Now to be grateful for,
the continuation, of life.
This there was a time,
that may not be.
This then to be grateful for,
the comings days.
He invited a gardner,
to plant a garden.
This then to renew, a life,
He adores.
The time for departure, comes soon
much too soon.
This then, the promise,
of renewal.
He lived with this dread,
this day, for decades.
The time of departure,
they thought not of, together.
Life was full, and this was future,
far future.
Then the bell does toll,
the time now comes.
Does he have the faith,
to trust in the gardener,
This, they will, then, see.
He was the one,
in the family,
with PMS.
There, he spent,
the first morning, as a family,
on the bathroom floor,
the tears they did flow.
How many times, again,
had they flowed.
The loss of the first ones,
two she had said,
then a new family, they had been,
or so she concieved,
the loss, then real, or not,
then felt the same.
They were fighting, the morning,
when the first one did come.
and many days still, as one,
they become.
30 years past and the tears,
still flow, for him, for her, for them.
As now two separate homes,
they build together.
Let's make a baby, she said,
there on her waterbed.
This, then, installed last week,
when her things, they moved in.
She was the first,
and would remain, the one only,
to make such a request.
Her Dad had feared,
the roof would collapse,
on the family home,
when her trousseau,
She, removed.
It contained all,
the ingredients needed,
to create a family,
cept, a husband.
Thirty years, she waited,
for this day.
It was not the first night,
but second.
The first night,
a pajama night,
had been.
The temple wedding,
the reception, in Franklin,
with family, and friends.
These had taken,
all her energy,
that first night.
That first morning, he spent,
crying in the bathroom,
at this apartment.
She left, the Family Breakfast,
early, to the temple,
with her best friend.
She thought,
she was offering,
a kindness.
He thought,
she preferred,
her best friend.
Then were the smells,
on the morning,
of the third day.
they awoke early,
to prepare for this
their new life,
together.
No time for a honeymoon.
That would never come.
He was needed,
at the repair shop.
She, a home,
to organize.
Coming home that night,
the apartment clean
a fridge with food,
dinner on the table,
and clean laundry.
These things,
his mom,
did not ...
these then, new smells,
then did surprise him,
that morn'.
Like the smell,
of the ice cream bucket,
in their friends truck,
containing the nauseous, contents
of a nights dinner.
The one held to celebrate,
the arrival of the couples,
first child, that next spring.
the smell of new love,
and stale sex.
like two moose,
rutting in the woods,
bringing new life, to the world.
or two socks,
sitting in the bottom,
of the hamper,
waiting to be renewed,
at next weeks laundry.
The gentle nibbling,
on her ear, as they sought,
to start, that new life,
together.
These are the smells,
that surprised him,
that second morning.
The large righteous, posterity,
God had promised him.
Create not together,
they would.
These babies would come,
from one, who loved, them all.
This, new source
a handmaiden, she would be.
In the Torah, a handmaiden,
is the one, to supply a new life,
when no life, create, the couple,
together.
Hagar, Ruth, and Mary,
such handmaidens,
had been to God
and the family.
In time, her sister,
then one, would be.
Still the smells, the next morn',
he would forget not.
The life, this then, they nurture,
together, this day.
Now we return, from the burial.
Nearly fifty year's has it been.
He was not the first,
he would remain,
the last.
Nearly 50 years, the covenant,
she then, kept.
Lordy lordy, then how this day.
A promise, she made.
A promise she kept.
Still the letters,
she kept, from the first one,
in the cedar chest.
Were they dreams,
of an everyday housewife.
To hold to the promise,
while remembering,
the past?
Life was difficult with Daddy.
This I learn now,
as I share the burden,
this day.
This luv we share,
this promise we keep,
then, this day.
So if keeping the letters,
from the first,
help renew, the present,
then who I am to judge, the choice,
For the strength, it provides.
This day.
Their she waited,
By the back door,
Ironing clothes, to pass the time.
This having something do,
While, she waits.
This young one,
This product, of love.
The gift of the body,
Like the others, too.
How to help him,
Be a man.
With a large brood,
Time with each,
Is hard, to come by.
When he left,
Such words, of anger,
Between us then.
Never coming home, he said.
I am a man, he said.
Does a man, do this to his mother?
Maybe come home,
He will not,
Then this my heart, will be broken.
Still I wait.
As so many others wait,
Their by.
Always the light on,
And a lesson to share,
This then child,
Becomes a man.
Made it home,
early, then,
the vacancy sign,
was lite.
Come home now,
to clean house,
for your Daddy
this day.
Maybe Daddy will work,
half a day, their being,
no burial today.
Daddy loves to dance,
it may kill him,
someday.
The Elks have a band,
this day, this Saturday.
Ten children,
to feed,
the motel to clean
and Voyle's wedding,
come soon.
This then the fight with Nancy,
the dishes this day.
I know Voyle's needs to help?
But this battle is a fight, I have lost,
long ago.
Lordy child,
how did I go so wrong,
with this one.
What my brother did was wrong,
so wrong.
This then the guilt,
I carry this day.
Lynn too, we will learn to love.
That child, I wonder if mature,
he ever will,
someday.
When come the babies,
to that two.
We will love and cherish,
and mourn this day.
Then another house to clean,
for their babies ,
a fresh start, that day.
To clean this,
a house, seams woman's work,
this day.
As men work,
to clean their lives,
this then,
love finds a way.
To make the dance,
this day.
Eloi Eloi lama sabachthani.
I believed in the end,
that a lamb would be found,
in the thicket.
did you not find a lamb,
for Abraham.
Thus alone, now,
am I.
this time has come,
now i pay the price,
the full price,
for their sins.
Then am I,
the lamb in the thicket,
you found, for abraham.
then this cup I shall drink,
this penalty I shall pay.
For you love, them,
as do I.
--
Steven Bassett
I'm journeyed forth, from the cave,
once more.
To return again, with the boon.
Thus to share, saught I,
But all they saw were the images,
on the wall.
How many times, must I return,
to the place, of there confinement?
It would be so easier, to go.
I have the tools.
I have the boon,
yet leave them, I can not.
So I return,
again,
and again,
and again.
with the boon.
Until the images become, real,
and we leave once more ...
Together.
How late in life,
Did she begin, to paint?
I see them now,
She is gone.
Never an artist,
Yet a painter.
As never a poet,
Yet a writer, am I.
Did they bring her joy?
I have them now,
She is gone.
Will my children have my poems,
When gone I am?
To bring to bring them, joy?
This then Christmas mourn,
then past.
This then many years,
To see the joy
Then to return
This then year's of sorrow,
Then be gone.
The cancer took its toll.
Never I thought the joy,
Could, return.
Now the cure, then to, the joy.
The sorrow, now, no more.
This then saught, but not believed.
Then to us now, be grateful for,
Here, then still ...
To this day, we make, the covenant.
Not for time, only
but for eternity.
This then does include,
the children.
We promise to love,
when we are unlovable.
If we are commanded,
to pray for our enemies,
does this not include,
our families.
We often quarell,
with ones, who know us best.
Into the covenant,
with both eyes open,
we remain inside with one, now closed.
To the remainder of my days,
I keep my covenant,
as she keeps hers.
My favorite poet was Aeschylus. He wrote: "In our sleep, pain which cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart until, in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God."
Robert F Kennedy April 4 1968
Indianapolis Indiana
https://www.jfklibrary.org/learn/about-jfk/the-kennedy-family/robert-f-kennedy/robert-f-kennedy-speeches/statement-on-assassination-of-martin-luther-king-jr-indianapolis-indiana-april-4-1968
This then, the morning after.
the battle, here in her home.
Sorrow filled her heart.
That her chosen one.
The son of the morning,
Would do this.
Full of so much promise.
His, and their light,
would diminish now.
Now it begins,
the choice, the real choice.
She had loved them all.
But now her heart breaks.
One third gone,
unredeemable, of his choice.
She wished she could have kept them,
here, cradled them, in her bosom.
She had loved them,
from, Eternity.
Now comes their choice,
real choice.
Michael would become, Adam.
The first man, in the new formed world.
But this loss,
the first loss,
of many to come.
It may be the greatest.
This then breaks her heart.
The son of the mourning.
To be the mistress,
or common-law wife.
Young she was when,
she came to the Swans.
Her parents, gone.
To be indentured then,
a servant girl.
Then love did come,
to the servant girl.
But this being Victorian times.
This uneven match, could not be.
He the son of the master.
Yet children did come,
acknowledged, by the masters son.
Then blessed in the church.
It was not a bad life.
good food,
a warm bed,
children educated,
and later, the masters home.
30 years she waited, but marriage did come.
To this, then the wife,
she becomes ...
* This is a true story grandmother, Elenor Broome
Was the marriage,
arranged?
It was time to marry,
now.
He had been home long,
enough.
His syblings,
they were married.
Then now must he start,
to date.
He prayed,
and out with a few girls,
he went.
Dad had a friend,
a girl at work.
She needed a good,
friend.
So off to the young adult activity,
swiming it was.
Little did he know of her fear,
of water.
Six months later,
to the temple,
they go.
This goal now met,
together.
So arranged was the marriage?
Or thus working on,
still.
They complimented her,
On the new haircut,
The ladies of the ward.
Little did they know,
It was coming out,
In handfuls now.
Six months left,
The doctor gave her.
Then the husband,
And the children,
No more.
How to leave this,
Then.
The family she had,
So longed for.
To hear to the voice,
of the one I love.
It has been too long,
nearly.
This long time,
to hear her voice.
Their was a time, I was not sure,
she would come.
These days I longed for ...
The first diaper.
The first word.
The first step.
These I thought would never come.
We shared a hammer,
when she was three.
It was our first home in Logan.
She helped me to remodel the entrance.
Now I wait by the phone,
as my Mom did for me
To help her in her time of need.
May I ever be grateful for the gifts,
she has offered me
Still the poetry,
From where doeth it come.
But come'th it does.
Till I come,
It reaches me.
Forever more
And then the same.
Doeth it reach you?
Posted Facebook Sept 2016
To sin, the choice,
This I have made.
Sin is a choice
And to this I do.
Of ignorance comes,
the transgression.
But this sin,
I must choose.
Of foreknowledge, And desire.
I have chosen this, Sin,
for so long. A pattern it is,
And I know no other.
Other sinners, Must I seek.
Like two drunks, In an A.A. meeting.
Will Bill and Bob, Help me to change.
To sin no more, A day at a time.
Then is this, the church real,
This then The Body of Christ.
Sinners in a great AA meeting.
The world is it now,
becoming?
They seek to divide,
us.
To better sell,
the goods.
Hate sells better
then love.
To advertise,
they must shock us.
Murder, theft, and robbery
sell better than,
kittens and new puppies.
To entertain, us.
They must divide, us.
By all measures,
the world gets better,
When I walk away,
turn it off,
and seek to serve.
Facebook poem 09/18/2018
Revised 09/19/2018
That day was our first,
together.
I so longed,
for that day.
That day you created,
a new father.
Born less then,
perfect.
As a father,
I am less then perfect.
You learned to,
overcome ...
I learned to,
be a father.
We both overcome,
our imperfections.
As we seek for growth,
Redemption,
and forgiveness.
Do they carry us,
Or do we carry them.
The are all gone now,
but one.
The one who was my mom,
And the one's who wanted to be.
I feel their luv.
I understand their fears.
Now I take their lessons,
And make them my own.
To father the ones,
Who remain.
They are gone now, but remain with me, to share.
* At one time, or another, all of my aunt's expressed a desire to be my mom
Sept 11 2015
Facebook.
Update Sept 20, 2018
Forth comes the poetry,
Doe'th it naught.
For what purpose,
comes the poetry.
A new found prayer,
a thought,
or a hope, for the future.
Wriggleing forth, on upward.
To bar it now,
unable or unwilling.
I am.
But share it I must,
endure it you might.
The way then is thus,
to bless us ...
Both.
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.
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.
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.
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
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.
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.
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.
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
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, 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.
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 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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?