My Least Favorite Poem

Pearls and Dreams

A little over a year and a half after the death of my step father, who died in February 5, 1979, I wrote a poem. It has remained, my mother's favorite. I've written a few hundred poems, yet this one ... remains mom's favorite. My step father, called rainy days 'hot chocolate days' and so, this poem ... reminds her of him and helps her to feel close to him when she reads it. I have to admit, it DOES bring me closer to Daddy everytime I read it. It does make me remember the warmth of his hugs, and the genuine love in his smile. So, while I consider it to be the worst in quality of all the poems I have written, I will never loose it, nor will I ever be ashamed of it.

A Rainy Day
by Peggikaye

A rainy day,
so cold, so wet.
A hot chocolate day,
to warm me up,
A staying inside day,
Just to dream,
and wonder,
and love.

A rainy day,
so cold, so wet.
A different day,
From all the rest.
Made just for me,
to dream,
and wonder,
and love.


© Peggikaye Eagler


Today, I learned that I have something new with this poem to bring a smile to my face.
My sons 6th grade special education class is doing a section on poetry. He very happily told me that he was studying poetry and he told his teacher that his mother was a published poet. The students said it wasn't fair, the teacher said, that he should share.
So, I emailed her some of my poems. Bj, for the first time in his life, willingly stood up in front of the class and proudly read ... he read his mother's poem. Her least favorite poem. The one she points to as being the poorest quality ... and yet, it was easy enough for him to break a life long fear of reading in front of his class.
The teacher emailed me and said that, not only was he willing to, but when he did it, he was beaming from ear to ear. He was very proud to read it.
She told me that teaching poetry to the class had been hard. The kids had fought and argued and pouted. But today, because a fellow student's mother had been published, and because he shared some of her poetry with the class ...and it was a tangible poem to them. They could relate, it wasn't some dead guy from long ago ... it was someone from here and now. Suddenly, poetry became fun, and living and exciting. Every child wrote two poems today, until today, she'd not gotten them to write a single one! In two weeks of the poetry section.
It's amazing, the things that we find foolish or poor quality that God can take and turn to inspire children. I'm sitting here in tears, in awe that a poem so light, so frivolous and so ... unimportant, has changed my sons educational history. I'm honored to play a part in a victory for him and humbled at the fact that I felt that something God had obvious plans for was worthless. Who am I to judge and say something is worthless, regardless of how trite it might seem??