Relationship Poems

Mountain of a Man

12/21/2014

He was a mountain of a man, who always had a plan
and dreams of grandeur, the horizon to span

T.C. we called him, and everybody knew
with each of the telling, the legend it grew

When he walked in the room, there surely was no doubt
what he thought was a whisper, was really a shout

From Orange County blossoms, to warm desert air
Indelible mark, said T.C. had been there

Time had bent, the sturdy old oak
knots and burls, but the branch never broke

Cause inside that man was an awful soft heart
in that calloused old frame made of wood n bark

Speakin of bark, it was worse than his bite
But pity the fool who picks the fight

With the mountain of a man who always had a plan
that was vast and shifting, as the desert sand

I often saw a tear, run down that chiseled face
when he spoke of kindness, from Gods amazing grace

The heart of a saint, the youth of a sinner
One constant he had, long-suffering Edwina

Then came the day, the legend it died
of the one that we called… Mister Theron Clyde

David Kettler 12/13/14

I wrote this on our son Doug’s 27th birthday, and also
This is the last sequential date that we will see in our
lifetime…twelve-thirteen-fourteen. Very fitting for the
passing of one, the which we will never see the likes again!

( I wrote this while hearing the voice of the Dodge Ram commercial
guy, Sam Elliot, reading it…seemed fitting!)

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Farm boy in city shoes

8/13/2013

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He was just a farm boy in city shoes
though his heart lay in the sod
The farm was deep within his soul
along with family faith and God

He left the plains of Iowa
to the Golden state came he
His muddy boots he laid aside
A business man to be

Shirt and tie and shiny shoes
could barely hide his roots
For under it all was a country boy
with cowboy hat and boots

John Deere green was in his blood
old tractors were his thing
He found them worn and rusting
and made their engines sing

Tractor shows and cattle sales
would pull him way up north
To sit with dear old Uncle Keith
who likewise had come forth

The Ag show in Tulare
was an annual pilgrim trip
Each year he journeyed faithfully
for cobbler and tri-tip

Don’t take the farmer
from his field
Don’t take his truck away
It lies within his farmer heart
and he drives it every day

He planted seeds and watered too
the things that he most loved
A bounty crop is what he left-
good Faith is what he grew

A grateful family says goodbye
to our dear old farmer dad
who faithfully wore his city shoes
and kept his family clad

We can’t deny the trail he left
the pathway that he trod
The footprints that he followed
have led to home and God David Kettler, 8/2/13

I wrote this for my dear father-in-law Lloyd Wirtjes who passed away
August 6th 2013 at 1:03AM. I wrote this at five in the morning on August 2nd
when he was very sick. I was able to read it at his funeral service where about
three hundred of his dearest friends gathered to remember an amazing man.
It was an honor.

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Three Legged Chair

1/28/2013

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Without you my dear, I'm like a three legged chair
I'm just not the same with your stability not there
I seem to have a tendency to lean just a bit
I'm a little unstable, in the chair where I sit!
Four legged chairs look on with disdain...
"He's weak in the knees" they often proclaim
They should understand, and without even tryin!
That my sweet little lamb, has the heart of a lion
For almost four decades she's been in my camp
The light of my life, the oil in my lamp
But boy do I know, from right where I sit...
The one that I love, has been the right fit!
So the older I get, and more at home in my chair...
The more that I love, the strength of you there
Tho at time it seemed rocky...and a little unfair
Man am I glad...you're a part of my chair!
David Kettler
Written for Brenda's birthday 1/10/13

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The Jester and Queen

8/10/2010

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Dedicated to Lloyd and Carol on their 50th Anniversary

The jester and queen for fifty fine years, a circus have played out in style
Three rings ablaze with sights and with sounds, have oft made us cheer clap and smile

The jester, he’s funny and man when he laughs, the timbers they just about shake
The queen, now she is the boss, of this please make no mistake

The jester, he worked with steel, and stories that slightly were bent
But Carol will keep him right there in line, her two cents often are lent

This traveling show when it started, had three little ones tagging behind
A handsome prince and two darling girls, with the two clowns they later did find

The boy, my was he a handsome prince, though his time with us was cut thin
He forever will live, deep in our hearts, when we think of his big mustached grin

This circus has a couple of beauties…that with us are right here today
That being the lovely Brenda…and her fine sister Darla Rae

The three rings moved abruptly, from it’s tent on Danbury lane
To the open spaces of Bakersfield, lest the jester drive Carol insane

A farm boy he is deep in his heart, with John Deere green in his blood
More at home with his coveralls on, and playing around in the mud

Now imagine the horror of his fine Dutchess Queen, as he tromps to the house from his shop
Where her castle, as clean and neat as a whistle, sports neither a speck nor a spot

Amazing with tools, this handyman is, though oft he’s out on the run
As the cry from the Prep crew goes up in the West…”Call Lloyd, he’ll gidder done!!

Oh the crowds they have wowed and the folks they have helped, while traveling down circus lane
Most of it done well behind the main tent, never for glory or fame

Fifty years is amazing, when considering how different the two of them really they are
The power of Love and help from above, has always kept raising the bar

For us in the crowd who follow their lead and appreciate all they have done
We tip our top hat to the jester and Queen, who’s hearts they lovingly have won

David Kettler

I wrote this poem for Lloyd and Carol’s 50th Anniversary about a year ago. I have been keeping it in hiding until this last weekend when Brenda, myself, Darla, Larry, Lloyd and Carol celebrated in Cambria for the weekend. We had a really nice time together and had lots of laughing, chatting, eating and more eating! At breakfast, we were scamming about where to eat lunch! We went to Bobby and Debbie’s for meeting Sunday morning and that was real nice. Brenda and I also got to see Darren’s new college pad in SLO before we came home. Best wishes to Lloyd and Carol for many, many more!

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Mom

6/6/2010

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There sits my Mom alone in the quiet
holding only my Dad’s smiling picture
Across from his chair where he often would sit
and seemed such a permanent fixture

Alone she sits now with memories,
a torrential cascading flood
The thoughts of all of her loneliness,
germinate, grow and they bud

The tears they fall on his sweater
with thoughts of his tender warm hands
Embracing and calming her tensions
easing life’s chilling demands

She looks through all of his keepsakes,
the treasures the stuff and the junk
Reminiscing of wonderful moments
now buried in memories trunk

Their hearts they were well knit together
some sixty years now have gone by
And boy did he really look handsome
especially when wearing this tie

And there is his dear old black bible
tattered and worn to the bone
With so many fine buried treasures
he labored to make all his own

This little box of small trinkets
from Italy, boot-camp and war
are now so inconsequential, to the
treasure he’s laid up in store

But Mom you’re still right here and with us,
this new phase has all just begun
Carry on with all of the courage
you’ve assembled beginning day one

Dad always loved that about you,,
when your kind heart he lovingly won
And he’s left you in the very good hands now,
of the Father and His capable Son

David Kettler, 8/13/09

I called my Mom and she was crying while going through Dad’s things. After I hung up, I wrote this poem while driving back to Bakersfield from Tulare. I felt like the first part would probably make her sad, but I hoped that the last part would give her encouragement to begin this next stage of her life. I thought about all the courage that it took Mom to go through nurse’s training all those years ago and now she would have to call on that courage again. It’s not like she ever lost it, just that she needs to make decisions on her own again without the help and support of Dad.

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Dads Gone

6/6/2010

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You tore a hole in my heart my dear old Dad
when you left and went away
The dreaded disease you bravely battled
refused to let you stay

The calls home now are not the same
your voice I cannot hear
However sometimes, I sense that you’re there
and standing very near

I picture your haircut, that timeless flattop
colored in wisdom’s gray
Your beautiful smile and those calloused old hands
gently pointing the way

I see your blue eyes so filled with love
and wonder when they turn my way
What do you see way down the road
and what are they trying to say?

Your words I hear as clear as a bell
though inaudible in my ear
I think of the things you would have said
when helping my path to steer

Dad, you’re gone yet you’re always right here
I carry you in my heart
Somewhere down the road we’ll join up again
when we never have to part

David Kettler, 7/31/09

One day driving home from down South, I very strongly felt Dad’s presence with me in the car. We had an inaudible make believe chat like we used to do. That started me thinking about this poem. I wrote it a few days later. It was kind of cool to call Mom and she told me that she had been experiencing some of the same feelings.

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Mother In Law

6/6/2010

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We don’t share the same blood but we share the same tears
Your daughter and my sons all share the same fears
We share the same joys we share the same hope
When things do turn tough, we all seem to cope

I love the strength you gave to my wife
I’m glad that you are a part of my life
So it’s true that we really don’t share the same genes
Where I’m coming from is so different it seems

If sometimes we’re playing for two different teams
Let’s never forget that we share the same dreams
I love my boys and you love them too
I love your sweet daughter as much as you do

My love for you, flows wide like a flood
We just happen… to not share the same blood

David Kettler, 4/14/09

I decided to write this for Carol’s birthday. I’ve always had a tough time calling my Mother and Father in law “Mom” and “Dad.” Part of it stems from confusion when you are talking to other people about mom or dad…they usually think of my “Mom” as in Betty or my “Dad” as in Ed. Another reason is because of the loser son-in-law who is often portrayed in the comics trying to cozy up to the new in-laws…usually much to their chagrin! In reality, I could not think of two other people besides my own parents who have meant so much to me over the years, and who I am very proud to think of as my Mom and Dad! I think Larry and I both knew that we could never fill the spot that Dean left in Lloyd and Carol’s life. We have both just wanted to do everything we could to be the best “substitute” sons that we could be. Now that I have lost my Dad, I feel very similar about Lloyd. He will never replace my dear old Dad but what wonderful back-up he has been in my life. So forget all the Mother-in-law jokes, in my case…it DNA. (does not apply)

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Dads Chair

6/6/2010

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I went to see Mom and I sat in Dad’s chair
I sat in the car seat where Dad used to steer
I sat at the table where they both would say grace
In the meeting I sat in what once was his space

We sang and we talked like she and Dad did
We remembered his jokes and how he would kid
I opened her door and held her kind arm
While walking down stairs, to keep her from harm

I kind of look like him, our eyes are the same
He gave me his humor and he gave me his name
The people who loved him are so nice to me
I remind them of him, and of what used to be

So I cheer up my Mom so she won’t get the blues
But I know oh so well, that I can’t fill his shoes

I wrote Dad’s chair when I was at Saginaw Convention with Mom. Between a couple of the meetings, I started it and then I finished it after we got back home that night. It was very impressive how many people came up to me and thanked me for being there with Mom. Also, many people came up and talked about Dad and how much they missed him. They would tell little stories about him and it was really special.

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My Sons Shoes

6/6/2010

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I fit in my son’s shoes, though I’m not in the Navy
My hair is receding, not all thick and wavy
Wasn’t long ago that he clomped around in my old boots
His little legs pushing with shoving and scoots

Now he’s a size thirteen just like me
No longer at home, he’s long gone and free
All his life, he’s dreamed of filling my shoes
Growing up, being a man, paying his very own dues

Funny thing though I might fit in his size
He’s gone way beyond in schooling and wise
This little guy’s on a trail that I’ve never known
Blasted like a rocket ever since he left home

Top of his class, king of the hill
Soaring to heights that I never will
I’m not jealous, no not one little bit
Just so proud that my shirt’s about to split

This Navy mans shoes that I slipped on to wear
Brings a smile to this old mans face, along with a tear
As I think of my dad’s shoes now put away for good
And how I’d like one last walk in them if only I could

But his footprints walk on, in the sands of yesteryear
When the next dad tries…his son’s shoes to wear

This poem came about when I slipped Doug’s old running shoes on to work in the yard one Saturday. I just found it amazing to think that they are the same size as mine. The rest of the poem pretty much is self-explanatory.

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Empty Bedrooms

6/6/2010

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I walk past empty bedrooms that once held my boys
the beds made so perfect, the absence of noise
Books there on the bookshelf and not upon the floor
no ear-splitting music, no slamming the door

It’s eerily quiet now these once busy dens
these bunkers of bustle with brothers and friends
They’re off to college now the closet’s are clean
they only come home now on days in between

The weeks of the study the homework and toil
with loads of their laundry all dirty with soil
These nice empty bedrooms so tidy and neat
just aren’t the same in their pristine retreat

As when the sneakers are thrown in a corner
the fridge it is drained like an unwilling donor
The noise and the smell of exercised teens
showing off muscles with biceps and spleens

Banging a cupboard while toasting some bread
at three in the morning before heading to bed
Now some dorm at the coast, in some far away place
or corner of frat-house who’s presence they grace

Our bedrooms are empty the rooms nice and quiet
the sheets all in place and the fridge on a diet
But once in a while it all comes to life
things they are back to the brotherly strife

Rooms not so tidy and sharp as a knife
as when we’re alone…just me and my wife

I was walking past the boys bedrooms the other day and noticed the nice made beds with pillows right in place. Also how clean and tidy they were reminded me that the boys far from lived there now! They were both home in March of 09 and things were right back to normal very quick. Within a couple days, you could barely tell what color the carpet was in their rooms where the floor was covered with clothes and junk. Anyway, it’s nice to have Brett still at home so he can give us some semblance of normality.

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