Jim Devereaux Poems



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On Thanksgiving I wanted to express how thankful I was for the marriage and family of families that I have been privileged to enjoy my seventy-eight years. I also wanted to share with everyone how Mary and I met and how I was able to win her hand in marriage. I hoped it would serve as a lesson to the many single and eligible grandsons in attendance at our Thanksgiving meal. So, I sat down Thanksgiving morning and wrote the following poem. It is a true story of my experience and perhaps one that will give you a chuckle.

To Win fair damsel ’s hand

By James A. Devereaux

While talking to a neighbor friend
Two damsels strolled on by.
I stopped to watch and it was then
My Mary caught my eye.

She knew me not for I was new
And hardly settled in.
Yet to my friend I turned and said
I hope her hand to win.

Two years would pass before we met
And learned each other’s name.
It happened at a high school dance
Where flirting was the game.

I asked her for that special dance
That ended with a break,
When couples could spend extra time
To talk and friendships make.

That’s when a spitball zoomed on by
And almost hit her eye.
I stood up tall and looked about
To find the guilty guy.

Years later in our empty nest
I asked her why she said
That she would marry me for life
And share both food and bed.

She told me after all those years
The spitball sealed the deal.
When I stood up to save her life
She knew my love was real.

So that’s the secret would-be knights
To win fair damsel’s hand,
It takes just one spitball to prove
You’re worth a wedding band.

Thanksgiving 2010


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Ode to my wife

by Jim Devereaux

I've had a good life
With a wonderful wife
Ten kids and a king size bed.

I've lived it would seem
The American dream
With joy and nothing to dread

At seventy nine
I'm still toeing the line
Counting my blessings each day.

I think it is fair
I can still comb my hair
And walk not losing my way.

I have pains and aches
But my wife still bakes cakes
And loves me with much ado.

So what do I say
As I kneel down to pray?
Thank God that I said I do.

OCT 2011


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My First Prayer

Jim Devereaux

As a child, my earliest memory is that of my father tucking me into
bed at night and having me say the following prayer with him:

Now I lay me down to sleep
I pray the Lord my soul to keep
If I should die before I wake
I pray the Lord my soul to take

I do not know how old I was but I would have been perhaps three years old or younger. In any case, this prayer introduced me to the mystery of faith, the stark reality of our temporary existence on earth, the promise of something more and a way to cope with fear which at the time for me was the darkness of the night. When finished with the prayer my father would tell me to think happy thoughts to squelch my fears.

The prayer and happy thoughts were an assurance that all was well and left me aware of an inner presence apart from my father’s presence in which I could find security and comfort.

Still, during those toddler days after my father would leave, I remember being alone in the night hoping for an outer sign of life around me besides my self awareness. I always took added comfort in the sound of an approaching trolley car and rested easier as I watched the light from the trolley flash across my bedroom walls as the trolley rolled passed the front of our apartment.

As the noise of the trolley faded, I would tell myself to think those happy thoughts as my father told me to do - happy thoughts of doing things I liked to do. I don’t remember what those happy thoughts were but I still remember the prayer and waiting for those trolley cars.

Since then prayer has been a part of my daily life addressing the eternal mystery of faith yet so often related to the temporal things in which I find comfort and security, like Sunday Mass.

I learned to pray in many ways but I found in formal prayers an added comfort from the memories they evoke - as with the first prayer my father taught me when he tucked me into bed, told me to think happy thoughts and left me waiting in the dark for passing angels with assuring light.

DEC 2011


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ADVICE

by Jim Devereaux

I have some advice
For a guy that is nice
But always seems to be blue

The good times ahead
Will turn into sheer dread
If you keep putting down you

Life never seems fair
When you try to compare
Yourself to somebody else

You might discover
That his pretty lover
Has a disgusting loud belch

So laugh and don't moan
You've no reason to groan
Thinking your life is bizarre

You might also find
In the back of his mind
He envies the way you are

Stop kicking the can
Thinking he is the man
God calls each of us by name

You should rather pray
For God's blessing each day
For He loves us all the same

29 DEC 2011


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A 1974 New York City Winter Memory

by Jim Devereaux

New York City on a snowy cold day
Underground on a crowded subway
No place to sit and no place to stand
I felt alone and lost in that land

People reading a paper or book
People afraid at each other to look
People carrying attaché cases
People with frowns on rosy red faces

At each stop the train doors slid open
Passengers scrambled without a word spoken
Some pushed in and some pushed out
To break the silence I wanted to shout

But people said nothing as doors slid shut
Some face to face and some butt to butt
Except for the screech of wheels on the track
I could have been in the Australian Outback

Finally the train reached my destination
I was caught in a wave getting off at the station
Together we surged and popped through the door
Spreading out like a fan I saw them no more

All of those people not one did I know
All of those people now trudging through snow
All of those people together alone
Those were the days before the cell phone

30 DEC 2011


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My Early Days in Chicago

by Jim Devereaux

Smells from the stockyards brought tears to my eyes
Garbage in alleys sat covered with flies
Clouds from tall smokestacks painted the sky
Windows rattled as trolleys passed by

The nadir of depression welcomed me here
Where blue collar workers drank whiskey and beer
And horses pulled wagons carrying a trove
Of milk for my tummy and coal for our stove

With snow on the ground and boots on my feet
I'd shop with my mother for fresh butchered meat
Sometimes mom pulled me along on a sled
Covered with blankets she took from my bed

Our city apartment had no central heat
Frosted front windows overlooking a street
A pot-belly stove to warm up the place
A closet with toilet taking up space

Two bedrooms viewing a red brick wall
A telephone hanging on a wall in the hall
A kitchen with sink and a cold water spout
An ice box, a gas range to leave nothing out

I played in the front room with my favorite toys
Lincoln Logs and lead soldiers made just for boys
At night on the radio my father would play
I learned from Gang Busters "Crime did not pay"

We were poor it is true but I had no clue
As a toddler the sky always seemed blue
My parents were true to the promises made
And I grew content in a family that prayed

31 DEC 2011


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Al Parker sent me a kind note wishing he could write some verse on the time he spent on 20 acre farm in NC. He inspired me to author the following representing my summer experiences on a fifty acre farm in Iowa. Those were the days. I hope they bring back some of your memories Al.

My Childhood Summers on a Fifty Acre Farm

by Jim Devereaux

With milking chores over the cats got a treat
It soon would be time for people to eat
The cream had been churned we had butter to spread
On dug-up potatoes and freshly baked bread

The main course was a chicken that lost its head
When I swung the axe and rendered it dead
We all prayed for rain to help the crops thrive
And thanked God for the blessings that kept us alive

The windmills, the tractors, the barns and the plows
The ducks, the dog and the mean old sows
The gofers I trapped and the snakes that I shot
Not to forget the first jackknife I got

The summers were hot, the comforts were few
Except for the outhouse to do what you do
And of course the Sears Catalog with all sorts of ads
From long underwear to the latest of fads

During the week we had popcorn to pop
Horses to feed and pigs to slop
There was corn to plant and wheat to thrash
Fresh cut hay in the barn to stash

Vic not only farmed he delivered the mail
And sometimes I went with him to help him not fail
The muddy back roads cause much slipping and sliding
It was more fun than roller coaster riding

I loved to play yuker, an old-fashion card game
And stand in the barn watching it rain
I devoured the grapes on the windmill vine
I thought apples and cherries on trees were all mine

On a Saturday trip into town for what's new
The men would stop at a bar for a brew
The women would gather heaven knows where
While the children played in the town's center square

On Sundays the Church called us to rest
And people would dress in their Sunday best
We all went to Mass then bought the newspapers
To read comics, sport scores and man-bites-dog capers

I spent many a summer on that Iowa farm
Where life was simple but not without charm
Where people lived by the work of their hands
And trusted in God to water their lands

1 JAN 2012


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Chicago Transit - 1940 Style

by Jim Devereaux

The old Chicago trolley cars
Red Rockets were their name
Were liked a monster with two heads
With front and back the same
 
At end of line the motorman
Would simply swap his place
With the conductor who took fares
To grant you travel space  
 
The back became the front you see
And front became the back
There was no need to turn around
The train just switched its track
 
The same was true of every seat
They changed without delay
By pushing on the seatback hard
To face the other way
 
With people safely on and off
Conductor yanked a chord
It rang a bell for moving on
With everyone on board      
 
I loved to watch the motorman
Who made it stop and go
One turn of wrench to pick up speed
And one to make it slow
 
These two-head monster looking things
Were neither fast nor sleek
But they could take you anywhere
If given just a week
 
For neither ice nor sleet nor snow
Could stop these faithful trains
Unless of course the viaducts
Were flooded by the rains

26 JAN 2012


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Sitting on Ready

by Jim Devereaux

Memories keep cropping up
Of good old days gone by
When I learned to tie my shoes
And never tell a lie

When I learned to catch a ball
And count to ninety-nine
When I learned my ABC’s
And want a Valentine

My parents always loved me
Through good times and the bad
They fed me and they clothed me
And gave me all they had

I remember my first kiss
I thought it was a sin
I remember my first drink
And I got drunk from gin

Those were days when church was full
And all knew right from wrong
Confession was a blessing
And choirs sang God’s song

Then came my graduation
My learning days were done
I stood upon the altar
United two as one

The children kept on coming
Each one a living gift
The tears and joys were blessings
And days went by so swift

I’ve barely scratched the surface
Of all my yesterdays
They taught me Jesus loves me
And died to heal my ways

Faith, Family and Freedom
Have been my constant guide
And so I sit on ready
To face tomorrow’s tide

27 JAN 2012

FOOTNOTE: Being from Chicago, Mary and I first heard the expression "Sitting on ready" in Alabama while stationed in Fort Benning back in 1956. We were with Ann and Roy Dunaway visiting Ann's sister for a fun-filled weekend. The expression itself brings back many fond memories - including a southern toast that Ann taught Mary which all of our children now enjoy, but that's a story for another day.


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The Answer

by Jim Devereaux

 

I’ve traveled around in many strange places
And looked in the eyes of many pained faces
I’ve considered at times why I’ve been so blessed
Allowed to grow old neither troubled nor stressed
 
My parents were poor and that is for certain
Not a window adorned with an Irish lace curtain
But they were both Catholic, loving and kind
They sent me to schools that challenged my mind
 
Some call it luck when things turn out right
And getting ahead is like flying a kite
When reaching for stars and achieving a goal
Is met with success giving joy to the soul
 
But it takes more than luck to conquer a fault
There are rivers to ford and deadfall to vault
Without faith in God forgiving my sin
I would have stopped early trying to win
 
I aimed for the life that doesn’t stop here
Where heartbeats are numbered and death is a fear
I aimed for the life beyond time and space
And found comfort in praying for wisdom and grace
 
It may sound too simple and hardly worth trying
But Christ is the answer for living and dying  
It’s never too early to be a partaker      
It’s never too late to say yes to our maker 

29 JAN 2012


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Just for the fun of it, I thought I would go politcal for a moment and toss in a poem about my view of the way things are in the world of politics. Frankly, I see government as a temporary and inadequate solution to a social problem. It (government that is) needs to be kept in check lest it become a beast we truly need to fear.  

As I See It

by Jim Devereaux

The land of the free
The home of the brave
Is slowly returning  
To master and slave

Instead of an uncle
We use to call Sam
Our nation is ruled
By a tyrant called man
 
Once under God
With freedom of conscience
We now have Obama
With all sorts of nonsense
 
Take for example
His health care reform
That forces insurance
That kills the unborn 
 
By taxing the rich
And feeding the poor
He promises change
But to what I’m unsure
 
For if bread is free
There is nothing to gain
In spending my time
To harvest my grain
 
It’s been tried before
Class warfare just kills
It promises nothing
But surrender of wills
 
People that listen
To promises of men
Are destined to live
A prisoner of zen
 
Absorbed in oneself
Leads man to no good
It’s in God we must trust
To live as we should

30 JAN 2012


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Some of my grandchildren were telling me about their bucket lists and all the things they would like do before kicking their bucket.  I started to think about my own bucket list and found myself thinking along different lines. I shared "My Bucket List" with my wife Mary and she was in total agreement. It is nice to have a companion with the same list and thinking the same way.  

My Bucket List

by Jim Devereaux

To wake up each day with a prayer
Thanking God for another day
To retire at night contented
Knowing I’ve not gone astray
 
To ask God to bless us each meal
For the food we’re about to receive
To be thankful for those that serve us
And share in what we believe
 
To greet each stranger as if
They could be a life long friend
To know my faith with the zeal 
To live, proclaim and defend 
 
To value the talents God gave me
Whether the muscle or brain
To use them to make things better
And never dare to complain
 
And should I act in a way
That causes a fall from grace
To seek forgiveness at once
Lest I lose my heavenly place
 
And last but not least on my list
Is to forgive those that offended me
Hoping too they’ll make it to heaven
Through Christ - for eternity

1 FEB 2012


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We lived just outside of Atlantic City for a few years when I was with IBM. It being summer time I was reminiscing about taking the kids to the beach on a summer day. With eight kids at the time, we actually preferred going to a local swimming pool where we could keep better track of everyone but, on occasion, we did build some beach memories.  

On the Beach in Sixty-Eight

by Jim Devereaux

Children carving castles in the sands
Lifeguards scanning ocean from their stands
Bikinied women passing by
Aware of every watching eye
 
A long tailed kite caught in a breeze
Salted air that made me sneeze
Ice Chest full of eats and drink
A book to read that made me think
 
Blanket saving space for mother
Sandals piled on one another      
Beach chairs scattered here and there
People sitting everywhere
 
Raised umbrellas making shade
In China they were brightly made
Beach towels spread out like a rainbow
Blue and green and red and yellow
 
Beach balls bouncing all around
Steady surf a soothing sound
Gulls keep flying overhead
Scouting for their daily bread
 
Some child drifted off from mommy
Mother screaming “Where is Tommy”
One more child is lost in play
With parents left to search and pray
 
Teenage girls and boys all learning
That within they have a yearning
To grow closer to each other
More than being sister brother     
 
Watching Sun pass slowly by
From east to west across the sky
The tide first high then inching low
Floating driftwood in the flow
 
Spotted seashells on the beach
Once unseen and out of reach
Now calling out for all to hear    
Take me for a souvenir
 
Those were days when in my prime
I hardly noticed passing time  
Now after all those family years
Fond memories of joys with tears

  2 FEB 2012


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The 2012 Election

by Jim Devereaux

The greatest tyranny
In White House history
Has got to be Obama
His only claim to fame
Is killing what’s his name
The man they called Osama

He promised change galore
Then promised more and more
To work toward transformation
I guess that means Michelle
Should dress up like a belle
And take a long vacation

He passed a Health Care Plan
Not good for any man
Unborn or very sickly
While playing basketball
He plans to tax us all
And redistribute quickly

Our army’s fighting sin
But not allowed to win
Or good men get demoted
While bureaucrats at home
Are talking on the phone
And government gets bloated

I think we should elect
A man we can expect
To safely guard our borders
And pray Barack will lose
So church won’t have to choose
To disobey state’s orders

The bottom line is this
I do not want to kiss
Away my hard-earned money
It’s up to me to chose
The weight I want to lose
And how to fill my tummy

11 FEB 2012


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Oblivious to the Obvious

by Jim Devereaux

The statists in this troubled world
Think they can solve the riddle
Of why Nero would watch Rome burn
While playing on his fiddle

They miss the truth so obvious
Humanity has spoken
And in its haste to rule as king
The Word of God is broken

Now every man is prone to sin
With numbered days for living
Unless he places all his trust
In Christ, our God forgiving

11 FEB 2012


I wrote “Oblivious to the Obvious” following a parish mission Mary and I attended while we were visiting our daughter and her family in Florida. The priest was particularly effective in keeping his focus on humanity’s need for Christ and for confession, a sacrament that seems much neglected these days.

While travelling, Mary and I met with some people now retired that we had not seen in awhile. There hardly seems a family not suffering from a loss of faith among their number and without a sense of concern for the prodigal. I was reminded of Christ’s own wondering if there would be faith on his return, a concern that Pope Benedict XVI recently reinforced in one of his homilies.

Now we are faced with the reality of federal mandates for Catholic churches and their outreaches to support life styles of the wayward. It was a predictable consequence of years of neglect in the faith formation of adults. Many are beginning to wake up and there remains hope.


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My Easter Reflection

by Jim Devereaux

There was a time when we were young
And wet behind our ears
We thought big government was cool
And worthy of three cheers

We married in the Catholic Church
We worked to earn our keep
We always paid our income tax
And tucked our kids to sleep

As years went buy we realized
In watching ten kids play
True charity began in homes
Where parents knelt to pray

Our government had naught to give
Its precious destiny
Was just to keep its people free
To live with dignity

It took us time to see the light
And look before we leap
We always kind of sort of knew
That free stuff wasn't cheap

So when we heard the promises
Of those that wanted change
We stopped to think about God's way
And found their methods strange

They wanted power to mandate
The same for everyone
A person could refuse to work
And stick with having fun

We hope that now it's not too late
To warn the world of greed
That makes men want what isn't theirs
And never fill their need

I write these words for all to read
But only will the brave
Believe that heaven's not on earth
It's just beyond the grave

It's with the Lord that conquered death
And not a manmade place
It takes an act of fearless faith
With hope and love and grace

8 APR 2012


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As I rapidly approach my 80th, I was thinking about the time when I was half my age and gave my father-in-law a good laugh as I started to tell him something and began with “Many, many years ago . . .” as if I was a font of aged wisdom. Mary and I still chuckle over his sense of humor. I guess as a very clean windy city police sergeant he needed a sense of humor during the days of mobster rule in which he risked his life for a measure of law and order.

Anyway, I jotted down the words thinking they would make a good start to a poem and what followed were thoughts along the lines I realize that I have shared in other ways at other times. I therefore ask your kind indulgence as I offer this poem with the hope it will give my father-in-law (who passed away many, many years ago) another good laugh should he tune into my PWP to check up on me and see what I have written.

My Journey

By Jim Devereaux

Many, many years ago
I fell upon my knees
And offered up my being
To do as God would please

My spirit was most willing
My flesh proved very weak
On Christ my mind stayed focused
His mercy mine to seek

The challenges kept mounting
With every passing day
I kept my sense of purpose
With eye upon the way

I put my faith in scripture
I searched as if a sleuth
The only thing I wanted
Was nothing but the truth

My calling was in family
Ten children and a wife
In Church I found the teacher
The source of grace and life

It’s through the Holy Spirit
With many at my side
That I have leaned the lesson
Its love that must abide

12 April 2012


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I was four years old the first time I ventured a peek into the forbidden alley in the back of our Chicago apartment building. My folks were poor but I had no sense of poverty. Curiosity got the best of me when I heard a man shouting “Rags Old Iron” at the top of his lungs. I opened the gate to see what was happening and experienced the following:

Rags Old Iron

By Jim Devereaux

Garbage filled the alleyway
Where flies were buzzing thick
Maggots gobbled down a feast
A sight that made me sick

A grimy man on wagon
With horse that seemed half dead
Patrolled the waste filled byways
To earn his daily bread

He shouted “Rags Old Iron”
And stopped to poke at trash
While hoping to uncover
A find to trade for cash

I stood there at a distance
He warned to stay away
The stench alone convinced me
This was no place to play

It proved to be instructive
To watch the scene unfold
It filled me with compassion
That poor man to behold

23 April 2012


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