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    Vacant Chairs
    Vacant Chairs
    Vacant Chairs
    Ebook83 pages40 minutes

    Vacant Chairs

    By Linda Blagdon

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Ranging from humorous to tragic, and from inspirational to personal, 'Vacant Chairs' provides a window into the depth of one woman's experience of Newfoundland culture, tradition, and faith.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherEngen Books
    Release dateJun 28, 2017
    ISBN9781926903408
    Vacant Chairs
    Author

    Linda Blagdon

    Linda Blagdon was born November 25, 1954. She grew up in the small town of Francois, Newfoundland and currently lives in Windsor, Ontario.

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      Book preview

      Vacant Chairs - Linda Blagdon

      Linda Blagdon

      I dedicate this book of poems to the one whose empty chair stands as a symbol of the love I had for forty-four years.

      To my husband, David Stephen Blagdon, whose love and encouragement gave me the courage to share my simple poetry with you.

      In my lifetime there have been a lot of vacant chairs, but I’ve never regretted knowing those who sat in them. The loved ones I have lost, their memories outweigh the cost of my heartache and my bitter tears. Now I will sit for a time and remember their smiles, until mine becomes the vacant chair.

      DAVE

      What I’d give for another day with you

      But tomorrow I’d want another day that’s true

      There would never come an end to the days I’d want to spend

      With you, my love, my husband, and my friend

      Jonna, John, Cory and I,

      never got a chance to say goodbye

      It broke our hearts that you had to go

      We miss you so much down here below

      You treated every person as your friend,

      though you were in pain you did not complain

      I’ll try to model that the best I can,

      Until we are reunited once again.

      Fly free with the angels up above

      Give my family and friends there all my love

      Tell Jesus I will serve him until my end

      Goodbye my love, my husband, and my friend.

      LIGHTHOUSE MEMORIES

      Lying face up to the top of the lighthouse

      Feeling the night breeze on my face

      The stars they seem so near in a sky that’s crystal clear

      I remember these childhood days with peace.

      I wish I could spend one more night there,

      To stand atop that lighthouse once again

      To hear the fog-horn blast its warnings across the waves

      To feel the evening mist upon my skin.

      To stand atop that lighthouse in the morning

      To see the fog dissipate to the sun.

      To see the flash of silver as salmon nets are hauled,

      To see the boats go home when day was done.

      To see the lobster pots piled in the dories,

      As they slowly weave in around the shore.

      To see my father wave to each boat as they passed

      And to stand atop that lighthouse, just once more.

      That way of life is slowly disappearing,

      And I like so many hate to see it pass.

      Where will our children find such tranquility and peace?

      In a world that is changing much too fast.

      LIFE ON THE SEA

      The winds up to Southered, it’s straight in the bay.

      The boats have come in with their catch for the day.

      But one boat is missing; it’s getting real late.

      We’ll have to go searching; the men they debate.

      The women are gathering into the store,

      The men are nervously pacing the wharf.

      Storm clouds are gathering, it soon will be dark.

      Something has happened is all they remark.

      The wives are at home trying to be calm.

      The children have gathered, there’s some in her arms.

      Will dad be getting home later today?

      I hope so my babies, she’s heard to say.

      She pictures his boat as it bobs on the waves.

      She prays his won’t be a watery grave.

      Like so many fishermen, who’s gone there before,

      Never to leave that old ocean floor.

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