A Collection of Poetry

By Henry Boone Linville

 

 

 

 

Rev. James Henry Linville, 1876-1958

wife, Amanda Dora Montgomery, 1888-1959

(Grandparents of Henry Boone Linville)

 

To Papa With Love

 

ξ

 

 Hand in hand we trod together
Down the street in humble pleasure
With cane in one, my hand the other
My heart drank all his lips could utter

His wrinkled brow, his boorish manner
Moored my eye, beloved manna
No awry deed could this man do
His eyes like heaven, a see-through blue

In his berth, our nightly station
I bowed my head in adoration
Hand in hand with my grandfather
We gave praise, his bed our altar

 

 

 

 

Henry Boone Linville (age 3 months)

and Papa

 (James Henry Boone Linville, age 78)

 

 

The Way You Know Me

 

ξ

 

 For long now, I have been shown the wrong in me

Maybe, just a tap on the shoulder

To let me see myself as I truly am

Or a face in the mirror, I really never quite recognized before

The way you know me

The pain that is brought to bear the image that you have known to be me

I never thought it could be 

That I might love my own grief more than you

I never thought you would ever see me grovel on the ground,

like a pig in all his pity

Forgive me now, if it is in your grace

Is it too late to redeem myself in your eyes

I have known what it is to die

And I have known what it is to live

To walk hand in hand with true love

Never having to ask His name

I have walked the earth without fear

And have known friends that never left me heavy-hearted

I have even prized the love of a little dog

Who, with just a look, could heal the heart of a lonely boy

I have loved, and I have lost

I have ran, and I have triumphed

I have gloried in conquering the unconquerable

I have looked in the face of a child, and have seen my own image 

'Like Roses'

ξ

 

She looked to the sea and saw only quiet breezes and crystal blue curves

of silken expance

She looked to the mountains with great wonderment and of their senescence

and wisdom of their creator

She looked at the world and wept in honor of its oneness in the cause of

virtue

And in the aspirations of it's peoples she delights

She looked to God, took Him by the hand, and never weighed Him in the

balance of justice or injustice

Nor, thought Him cruel for veiling His face

She looked to her children, and fed them with her last bit of bread, they        

knew not that she was in want

Nither will they discover her privation, as she will never disclose

Because she looked at them and saw dreams, yet unborn

Like roses when cut are beautiful for a day, but the consequence is

immediate

Therefore, for adoration, she cuts them not

 

 

No Earthly Good

 ξ

This morning's breakfast tasted good

But was mighty hard to find

Would have bought it if I could

I hope that farmer didn't mind

 

Now back on the road I go

Hair all shaggy, matted down

Guess the going will be slow

My shirt's all muddy from the ground

 

In the distance there's a train

Wonder where its engines bound

To a better place I know

Than these worn out shoes I found

 

Back on highway sixty-five

No one knows or cares for me

'Just another drifter-down

And no earthly good is he...!'

 

By:  Henry "Hank" Boone Linville - 2001

(Great-Great Grandson of John Jacob Linville of Lauderdale County, Tennessee)

 

 

©Henry Boone Linville - 2001

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Last Updated Monday, February 17, 2003, 8:02:02 PM CST