Poems by Susan Vidd

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She Waits
- Published: March 23, 2025
Courage In The Face Of An Approaching Storm

in Ocean Poems

With gentle winds aloft preceding summer storm
Through open window dusk a woman sits forlorn

Amidst the earthy briny air a gentle breeze persists

With gentle winds aloft preceding summer storm
Through open window dusk a woman sits forlorn

Amidst the earthy briny air a gentle breeze persists
Lace curtains gently shifting with hints of ocean mists

Dimly lit candles of paraffin and wick
Reflecting images on walls of wood and stone and brick.

She will sit and wait as has transpired in the past
With memories and experience of foreboding everlast.

A piece of bread, a drink of rye
with prayers to God there be no eye!

August 27 1856
The Florida Keys
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I loved this! It evokes mixed emotions of calm, anxiety and solitude.

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His Name Was Valentine
- Published: September 18, 2024
Regret And Sorrow At Never Having Met Grandparent

in Grandfather Poems

Your image faded through the years
I trace each line and furrow
Among your family there you stand
Unaware of tomorrow, tomorrow.

Your image faded through the years
I trace each line and furrow
Among your family there you stand
Unaware of tomorrow, tomorrow.

For your days are short and soon to end
Though youth is on your side,
The dragon's heat from steelyards
Will life and death divide.

I've seen this photo in the past
But paid it no attention.
I find it strange that nothing was said
And how little they failed to mention

Exactly who this man had been
So handsome and so strong;
A husband and a father of seven
And one more infant, long gone.

But now I am a grandmother
And with curiosity that grew
I wish I had asked more questions
About this man I never knew.

They did say you were a kind man
Your name was Valentine.
I am so sorry we never met
Dearest Grandfather of mine.
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The Victorious Cockroaches
- Published: September 4, 2024
Humorous Poem About Cockroaches

in Humorous Poems

With dimming light and hours passed
They are awakened and quickly amassed
From within deep corners and underground
In multitudes of numbers they are found.

With dimming light and hours passed
They are awakened and quickly amassed
From within deep corners and underground
In multitudes of numbers they are found.

Moving stealthily with grace and speed
A Major General in the lead,
Headed for nutrients hidden away
Leftovers from meals enjoyed that day.

Running in shadows up and down
Gaining in numbers from 'round the town,
I lay in my bed awakened from sleep
Their army of movement with steps that run deep.

One flip of the light and a moment of scurry
So fast they move to safety they hurry
With disbelief at their size and number
So large they wake me from deep in slumber.

My eyes grow wide even though blurry
But seeing me now THEY no longer worry.
I have encountered roaches that live in Florida
But this lively group was quite different, sorta;

For the Iowa roaches so huge in the dark
Footprints were left as they made their mark.
I swear they had teeth that were wide and white
Seen from afar they required no light.

So different were they from the Florida bug
Who wore bikinis, smiled and welcomed a hug.
They were spared the reference of roach
But rather a Palmetto with a lovely falsetto.

This is the story of our first night rental
In an old Iowa house which would drive me mental
For the lady who owned the house had smoked so much
The giant roaches were yellow and such.

To say the least we left shortly after
As we closed the door the roaches would gather
On the floor on walls and even the rafter
From behind that door, I swear we heard laughter!
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The Golden Tear
- Published: August 29, 2024
Empathy For The Elderly

in Aging Poems

He moved with deliberate motion
Each step a painful chore
His body bent and crippled
To the depths of his human core.

He moved with deliberate motion
Each step a painful chore
His body bent and crippled
To the depths of his human core.

His skin so slight and fragile
His fingers bent and knobbed
His youth had passed so quickly
It was though he had been robbed.

One joy remained to soothe him
In his long and lonely life;
His family mostly gone now;
parents, children, wife.

To find the peace he desired
He struggled to pick a flower.
There was little else he could do
In this late and golden hour.

It would not be unusual
To pass him without a glance,
For time in youthful measure
Is a long enduring dance.

But if you took one moment
To stop and think of him;
Switch places as you ponder
And really delve within.

You would clearly notice
As he picked that flower near,
Upon his hollow sunken cheek
Was a single golden tear.
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Hello Ann,
Thank you again for your kind and encouraging words. I dedicated this poem to my dearest father who passed away at the age of 98. You are NOT elderly! Best wishes from across...

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Ocean Ripple
- Published: August 9, 2024
Healing And Wonder Of An Ocean Wave

in Ocean Poems

Across the vastness of open sea
Traveling onward incessantly
Beginning with a breath of air
From skies above with clouds or bare;

Across the vastness of open sea
Traveling onward incessantly
Beginning with a breath of air
From skies above with clouds or bare;

The graceful pattern of blue and green
And other colors not clearly seen
Hold fast their strong and steady pace
As if to lead the looming race.

From where they begin
To where they end
The adventures are carried
From down within.

Closer now to distant shore
With beauty and power and stories of lore
We watch and wait with patient mind
In anticipation of a wondrous kind.

For the miniscule ripple
From across the sea
Is now a grand wave
For all of thee.

The sound so soothing it drowns the noise
eager to envelope the coast with poise
And comfort all who come to observe
And relish in waters of sculpture and curve.

The sight, the sound, the smell, the glory
Of a tiny ripple that tells a story.
We bare our feet and in the sand
Feel the majestic ripple from wave to land!
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Red Morning Sky
- Published: July 17, 2024
A Sailor's Story And How It Relates To Life

in Ocean Poems

The stillness is but a facade
Calm and peace fleeting
As I observe the clouds building
And the sound of my own heart beating.

The stillness is but a facade
Calm and peace fleeting
As I observe the clouds building
And the sound of my own heart beating.

Red sky this morning
Beauty to behold
To set sail now
Only for the bold.

Adrift we be
All is well
But winds increase
The waves now swell.

Too late to turn about
The point of no return,
Veterans of the sea
We never seem to learn.

From three to five
To seven and eight
Reef the sails
Before it is too late.

The clouds open
The rain cold like ice
Grab tight the helm
Our course now imprecise.

Wave after wave
Each third wave growing
The forces below
A ghostly vessel towing.

Keep the bow a 45 angle
Head straight on so as to wrangle,
Capture the tempestuous sea
Master the rhythm of windward and lee.

Remember the morning of red when set sail?
You departed recklessly with warning of gale.
Oh veteran sailor, will you ever learn?
Red sky in the morning, turn tail bow to stern!
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Hello fellow Lake Erie boater. I am thankful for your note. I know my poetry is very elementary, but I always try to base it on some personal experience. The Mentor Yacht Club is so...

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Teddy Bears In The Window
- Published: June 26, 2024
How We Helped Our Children During The Pandemic Poem

in Current Events Poems

In the year of 2020
When life was full and plenty,
A terrible plague besieged the world
Chaos and sorrow worldwide unfurled.

In the year of 2020
When life was full and plenty,
A terrible plague besieged the world
Chaos and sorrow worldwide unfurled.

In isolation and fear we dwelt
Uncertainty and confusion was what we felt;
Masking our own fears from our little ones
Masquerading the pain from our daughters and sons.

Our innocent youth confused, unaware
Of the isolation they are now forced to bear.
We are afforded the freedom to walk the street
But not close to our neighbors perchance we meet.

To retain some normalcy there came a plan
Place teddy bears in the window for children to scan.
It would help as the young ones would take a walk
To look for a teddy bear on every block.

"Look mommy, there's a pink teddy bear
And a gray one at that house with long fuzzy hair!"
And so it went on as a method to cope,
Living each day with a prayer and hope.

Now four years later 2024
Situation better but not quite like before;
My own teddy bear remains on my sill
And will be there forever or maybe until...

We remember how fragile life can be
Not take things for granted, Teddy and me!
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What Grows In Iowa

This is another true story written in my simple and untrained poetic form. I am sure many people will relate if you have ever suffered from allergies. I hope you see the humor in this piece. Thank you for reading my poems.
- pending
- Posted on 06/08/24
in Humorous Poems

Riding down Interstate 80
In the fall of 1971
Headed for a new life
Our marriage just begun.

Riding down Interstate 80
In the fall of 1971
Headed for a new life
Our marriage just begun.

Natives of Ohio;
A midland temperate state,
Iowa not all that far
And August is the date.

With limited experience
We followed down the path,
700 miles to be exact
with calculated math.

The hills had slowly diminished
Now the landscape nearly flat
No air conditioning, windows open,
I hung onto my hat!

"What is that?" we see ahead
Rows and rows of corn;
Not like that of Ohio's crops
But of a species almost foreign.

It was the largest corn ever seen.
We actually had no knowledge.
They did not teach horticulture
In the many years of college.

Eyes grow wide continuing on
I feel the sweat form beads
For among the stealthy giant corn
There also grows the weeds.

Mammoth ragweed much like the corn
Huge and swaying giants;
The winds carrying it across the plains
With little to no defiance.

There is just one bit of concern
We wish we had been aware.
Small plants of ragweed make us sick
But those behemoths - Beware!

When moving on to new adventures
A little research would be wise.
Why am I sneezing, coughing, itching
With dark circles beneath my eyes?

Hay fever, hay fever, hay fever!
The orange pollen moves through the sky.
My body attacks the common weed
believing it is awry.

The irony is a certain beauty
Even flowers are big and bold.
They are so very large, in fact,
They are a miracle to behold.
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The Struggling Swallow
- Published: May 8, 2024
We All Need A Helping Hand

in Animal Poems

Under a dock over the sea
Nestled between a lake of debris,
The young swallow spreads out its coat
In desperation to stay afloat.

Under a dock over the sea
Nestled between a lake of debris,
The young swallow spreads out its coat
In desperation to stay afloat.

With concern I am asked to intercede;
To paddle my small craft among the reed
To attempt to reach the struggling bird.
I observe intently but utter no word.

Any attempt might be perilous;
To risk my craft simply careless.
I fear my attempts would be futile.
I weigh my options and wait a while.

I continued on my impromptu way
My plans to simply enjoy the day.
But I was blinded and could only see
The young swallow struggling not far from me.

Two hours had passed and I returned.
A small crowd had gathered and I quickly learned,
The little creature still afloat
But less active now as I untied my boat.

"Such a brave little bird"
Among the crowd was the word.
I believe I will give it a go
Into my boat, centering myself, crouching lower than low;

I was able to drift beneath the dock
Could get no closer blocked by a rock
About to give up before I hit sand
With drenched wings and determination he swam to my hand.

Under different circumstances he would move away
But the little swallow knew that I lay ---
Lay my hand down for him to retreat
To cheat death at that moment; the odds to be beat.

He was cold and tired in a weakened state;
Too vulnerable to be left there at any rate.
I swaddled him in my sweater's warm pocket
Close to my heart and my golden locket.

Together we traveled across the bay
Trying to capture the warmth of the ray.
Five miles we journeyed to the distant shore
Where my meager cottage could offer him more.

I placed him in a makeshift cage
While I searched for some food for him to engage.
Welcomed rest, warmth, security, food,
Was all that he needed to lighten his mood.

I picked him up and we looked eye to eye
"It's so nice to meet you my brave little guy."
Within two hours he seemed to recover;
From my hands he flew not bothering to hover.

I will never forget how he struggled to reach me;
An unnatural act of instinct to teach me
When events are dire and one holds out a hand,
Creature to creature we are all of one band.
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Thank you again for reading my poems and commenting. I love the poems you have written.
We seem to have a mutual poetic connection even though we are an ocean apart. Thank you so much. ...

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The Little Painted Turtle
- Published: April 16, 2024
Giving Nature A Helping Hand

in Animal Poems

It was merely happenstance
As I walked about my home
To note the movement in the grass
Of a creature with a dome.

It was merely happenstance
As I walked about my home
To note the movement in the grass
Of a creature with a dome.

Cautiously I moved forward
Steady was my pace.
It was hard to see just what it was,
The turf had masked its base.

To my surprise it was a turtle;
Indigenous to Ohio.
Identification revealed colorful markings
According to its bio.

It is known as the painted turtle
And it was headed for the street.
Turn around my little friend,
Move those little feet.

It was determined as ever
to continue on its quest.
But I knew its direction
Should be south and not northwest.

It moved closer to the road
Where cars were speeding by.
I could not let it continue
There was a good chance it would die.

I picked up the painted turtle
Who had traveled, oh, so far,
The lake from whence it came is south,
Not north beneath a car.

I placed it on brown pebbles
At the baseline of our lake
Convinced it now would settle;
A good deed for its own sake.

It was never its intention
To rest upon that shore.
No sooner had I turned around,
It was on the move once more.

Frustrated I stop and take a glance
To see my neighbor smirking.
He approached me with a smile and said
"What you did is just not working."

He told me of her history
"I know she will not rest.
She is compelled to keep on moving -
Two years my yard reserved her nest."

Well, I will carry her across the street
To the soft grasses of that nest,
Then it must be out of my hands
As nature's plan is best.

But, I just can't seem to let it go.
I look for her each day.
She will return to my lake
In early June or May.

Turtles are smarter than you think.
She boasts a colorful mark.
It is quite possible she will cross the street
And make it safely to my park.

There is an instinct within us all.
It seems to be very strong.
By helping her to cross that street,
I pray I was not wrong.
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1 - 10 of 13

Poems by Susan Vidd

What Grows In Iowa

This is another true story written in my simple and untrained poetic form. I am sure many people will relate if you have ever suffered from allergies. I hope you see the humor in this piece. Thank you for reading my poems.