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Beverly Ann Kegley

Beverly Ann Kegley
Senior Year - Narbonne High School

Beverly Ann Kegley

Beverly Ann Kegley
Beverly in Junior High School
Showing posts with label Poem: He Called You Sam. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poem: He Called You Sam. Show all posts

Friday, February 15, 2013

Dear Beverly


Just stopped in to say hello.

           You remembered me.

Always.

Beverly Ann Kegley Carvajal

Love.   
You just wanted to be loved.

Not isolated and left alone, 
but loved and treated with kindness.

It seemed so simple,
but it proved to be elusive.

In the days of my grief
I wrote of your needs in this poem.

He Called You Sam

He called you Sam. 
How odd a nickname for such a pretty girl.

“Hey Sam, go out and play.”

“Sam, clean that room.”
“Please,” he didn’t have to say.
Reluctant for the chore, but you adored the man.
So off you’d go for the one who called you Sam.

“Sam, such a lovely smile you have today.”
It would grow brighter with his voice.
“I love you daddy.”

“I love you, Sam.”
That’s all he had to say.

And then the cancer came.

Gone and you just a child of twelve.
It could never be the same.

No one to call you Sam.
No sound of “Sam” to bring a smile.
No “Sam, clean that room” today … or any other day.

One day there.  One day gone.
Lay bare the heart ... and cry you did.
Such a heavy load to bear.

No one to keep the boys at bay.
No one to teach you this or that.
No one to say: “I love you, Sam.”

“I love you, Sam.”

The loss, it marked you well.
A wound not seen, but there, a heart not whole.
A week?  A month?  A year? 
Could he have tarried just awhile?

Only those who took the time,
Who stopped and sought to listen.
They too could hear the whisper in your heart.
The need.  The need.  The need.

The need to be just Sam.
And hear without condition,
“I love you, Sam.”

“I love you, Sam.”

He called you Sam. 
How odd a nickname for such a lovely woman.

Have a tune for you today.
Not a song.
Not music, but a tune ... that's what you call them.
Enjoy.


 Oooh yeahhh!

Wasted time and money
Honey, treatin' you like a queen.
I might as well have just thrown matches at a tank of gasoline
Well it all went up in a ball of flames.
Yeah, girl you torched me good.
Yeah, I got burned and learned that I loved you more than I should.

Cause my heart said a long time ago,
Buddy tuck your tail and run.
Cause it ain't love,
When you're stuck on the wrong end of the gun
Well, you put your finger on that trigger
And you shot me where I stood.
I found out the hard way.
I loved you more than I should.

Ooooh yeahhh!

Well, curse the man who made the sweet perfume that cast the spell.
And curse the night that made us kiss beneath the star that fell.
And curse the man before me,
Didn't warn me when he could.
And curse me most of all for loving you more than I should.

Cause my heart said a long time ago,
Buddy tuck your tail and run.
Cause it ain't love,
When you're stuck on the wrong end of the gun
Well, you put your finger on that trigger
And you shot me where I stood.
I found out the hard way.
I loved you more than I should.


Last night I found myself inside the strangest, sweetest dream
You were standin' arms wide open right in front of me.
The closer I moved toward you, the further away you stood.
I woke up and wispered, "I loved you more than I should."
They'll write on my gravestone,
I loved you more than I should.

More than I should, yeahhh!

Ooohhh!

Yeahhh!

Monday, December 3, 2012

Dear Beverly

Just stopped in to say hello.

          Mi Amor, you remembered me.

Always.

Beverly Ann Kegley, Beverly Carvajal, Alexander Fleming Junior High School

You had that beautiful smile way back then.
And that wonderful sense of humor.

"Me" with stars  How cute.

It took me so many years to figure it out.
Oh sweet Beverly ... oh sweet Sam.

I wrote this for you,
I only wish you had a chance to read it.

He Called You Sam


He called you Sam. 
How odd a nickname for such a pretty girl.

“Hey Sam, go out and play.”

“Sam, clean that room.”
“Please,” he didn’t have to say.
Reluctant for the chore, but you adored the man.
So off you’d go for the one who called you Sam.

“Sam, such a lovely smile you have today.”
It would grow brighter with his voice.
“I love you daddy.”

“I love you, Sam.”
That’s all he had to say.

And then the cancer came.

Gone and you just a child of twelve.
It could never be the same.

No one to call you Sam.
No sound of “Sam” to bring a smile.
No “Sam, clean that room” today … or any other day.

One day there.  One day gone.
Lay bare the heart ... and cry you did.
Such a heavy load to bear.

No one to keep the boys at bay.
No one to teach you this or that.
No one to say: “I love you, Sam.”

“I love you, Sam.”

The loss, it marked you well.
A wound not seen, but there, a heart not whole.
A week?  A month?  A year? 
Could he have tarried just awhile?

Only those who took the time,
Who stopped and sought to listen.
They too could hear the whisper in your heart.
The need.  The need.  The need.

The need to be just Sam.
And hear without condition,
“I love you, Sam.”

“I love you, Sam.”

He called you Sam. 
How odd a nickname for such a lovely woman.

Have a tune for you today ... an oldie, enjoy


In every other song that I've heard lately
Some fellow gets shot
And his baby and his best friend both die with him
As likely as not
In half of the other songs
Some Cat's crying or ready to die
We've lost most of our happy people
And I'm wondering why

Let's think about living
Let's think about loving
Let's think about the whoopin'
and hoppin and boppin'
and the lovie, lovie dovin'
Let's forget about the whinin' and the cryin'
And the shooting and the dying
And the fellow with a switchblade knife
Let's think about living
Let's think about life

We lost old Marty Robbins
Down in old El Paso a little while back
And now Miss Patti Page or one of them
Is a-wearing black
And Cath's Clown has Don and Phil
Where they feel like a-they could die
If we keep on a-losin' our singers like that
I'll be the only one you can buy'

Let's think about living
Let's think about loving
Let's think about the whoopin'
and hoppin and boppin'
and the lovie, lovie dovin'
Let's forget about the whinin' and the cryin'
And the shooting and the dying
And the fellow with a switchblade knife
Let's think about living
Let's think about life