Tuesday, June 2, 2015

A Father's Day with His Beautiful Triplets

Matty, Mary and Maxwell (Max) the eight (8) year old triplets of Senator Michael Paxton and his late wife Milly, were only five when they lost their mother. Milly Paxton died from cardiovascular disease. This disease left Michael a single father with triplets.

The loss of a wife and mother left a deep void in Senator Paxton and the triplets' heart, and the sadness never completely faded away. 

There were always reminders lingering in one's heart; waiting to surface at any moment a memory of their mother, and Michael's wife's recalled. Milly's photos still decorated the home; Michael had his favorite photo of Milly by his bed, so his eyes could caress every inch of her face, before he turned his light out at night.

Michael was one of the busiest men that lived on Brown Bear Terrace because he took the privilege of being a father very seriously that is why he was home every night possible. If he couldn't make it by dinner, his sweet mother was there with the children because she had moved in after Milly died.

His mother was his Angel, and such a blessing she was to him and his children. The triplets were three of the happiest, healthiest bundles of jumping and laughing little blond-haired and blue-eyed Angels, in Alaska, and Michael was so proud of them; they were just like their beautiful mother.

Oh, yes, they were Angels, because their daddy said so, and their granny agreed. Senator Michael Paxton was a tall man, who was very strikingly handsome with black hair and blue eyes the color of an angry sea; complemented by his olive complexion. Which is the reason many women noticed him wherever he appeared--their eyes followed him until he was out of sight.

Michael did not take notice of anything or anyone, but his family and his job as a senator. He knew how important it was being a father, and tried, but could not fill the role of a mother to the precious gifts God had given him and his Milly.

The triplets, aka "The Missionaries" by friends and neighbors because they tried to help everyone; by invitation or not. Matty, Mary and Max were all sitting closely together on pillows in front of the fireplace, when their granny brought in hot chocolate for them. It was still chilly in Anchorage, in June, and especially when the sun finally went down.

When they had a plan, they were the happiest. A plan to make someone else happy seems to be their God-given talent. The triplets had invited their favorite teacher to dinner on Sunday, because they loved her and so did their granny. However, their dad had not met Miss Victoria Fleming, a fact they were very aware of as they smiled and giggled.

Victoria Fleming was 5'6" tall, with a fabulous figure; she had long black curly hair; with long black eyelashes that accented her beautiful amber eyes. Most men noticed--her beauty captured their attention when she walked into a room, but she was only aware of her children as she called them.

She was concerned with how well-adjusted and happy they were outside school. She frequently had groups visiting different areas of the state of Alaska, with their mothers volunteering as helpers. She felt that the beautiful Alaskan outdoors would cure any little issue the children might have going on in their lives.

And, school was out for the summer, so she would donate some time for her children. Her class of eight year old students had just completed a trip to the Gold Rush National Historical Park. And, now she was planning another trip for them next week, but this time she would need the help of the fathers. As they would be going to tour the Salmon Processing Plants and Canneries of Alaska, and the support of the fathers would help ease her mind.

On this beautiful Alaskan Sunday morning, Victoria Fleming found herself waiting for the door to open, as she had just rang the doorbell. She received a loud welcome as the triplets opened the double doors to their home. Mary gently took her hand, and they followed Matty and Max into the library where their dad and granny waited.

Michael had his back towards the door and didn't notice when the four of them entered the library, but granny did, and she smiled and went over to greet their guest. "Michael, son our guest has arrived." said his mother in her motherly voice. She waited for her son to turn around and see their guest, as well as Mary, Matty and Max, they all waited with smiles.

When Michael turned around he had his hand out to shake hands with their teacher, but froze when he saw Victoria. When Victoria smiled her dimples con-caved deeply to enhance her beautiful face, as she extended her hand.

Hands touched and eyes searched, and time stood still for them both, as granny and the triplets smiled and hugged each other. Michael finally cleared his throat, and released her hand regrettably, and welcomed Victoria to their home.

The triplets giggled because they knew one day soon; their home would have a new resident. Then, they all said: "Happy Father's Day, senator." What a great day they all thought---even Victoria.

It was in late summer when Michael and Victoria became husband and wife, with the most beautiful three little flower girls their community had ever witnessed. The triplets were half walking and half skipping as they sprinkled lavender rose petals on the church carpet.

About five minutes before Victoria walked behind them on her father's arm. The triplets almost out-shined the bride; they were not quite old enough to do it-- this time. Victoria wore a gown from Paris, designed by her friend, Collyns, who had her shop there, and wanted to give it to Victoria as a friendship gift.

The gown beautifully made of silk and French Lace, with white rose buds made out of pearls, decorated the skirt of the gown. The train glimmered with lace and diamonds embedded in the tiniest pearl rose buds. In her hair she wore pearl roses with diamonds, and her jewelry matched her gown. Her shoes were clear and white and very understated, not to outshine her gown.

Four months later, Victoria was going to be a mother of just one baby, a little boy. And, the family went to Hawaii to celebrate the wonderful news that a little brother was on his way.

The triplets had already made plans about whom and what books would be read to their little brother. What a great time was ahead for everyone.

 © BEPH 2015 All Rights Reserved

PurvisBobbi44 is the sole author of this article and if it is seen anywhere else on the Internet or in print it was taken without written consent and is strictly prohibited.

Saturday, May 9, 2015

Slow Sweet Sunday Morning Loving

Outside our bedroom window---
Chickadees are feeding,

“Come back to bed my Darling,” he said,
“Tis you I am needing.”

I gave nothing else my attention,
With his kissable fingers on my lips,
his slow hand rubbing out my tension,

His full experience lover’s lips mastered
and devoured mine,
As his slow fingers found my secret places
and kept the time.

Slow hands of a lover will electrify a body not
No spot was left jealous--- nor, neglected,
his hands were top rated.
His muscles bulged against the skin of his tanned frame,

So hard against my softness—it drove me insane
—this slow and sweet Sunday morning loving
---would I ever be the same?
His blue eyes stared into mine,
They promised another place, another time.

His lips then followed the path of his slow hand,
My body convulsed with waves of passion by this 
handsome man.

He was the Maestro who conducted passionate 
music to my heart,
Tied in a lovers knot we rose toward Heaven and
kissed the star in the early dawn—never to be apart.

We held each other in our afterglow, until the sunlight
filtered through the room,
In our bed we wished to stay and—play-- until noon.

But time was doomed—as outside our door---

three pairs of feet came knocking,
“Mommy, Daddy--- surprise we are up!” Angel voices of 
our triplets shouted, which was not shocking.

I opened door, and in flew three representations of our love, 
to jump on their daddy in the bed,
And I laughed as I step through the shower door he mouthed 
to me---I am dead.

With sweet lips so warm and tender,
Yes, slow sweet Sunday morning loving is always on my agenda.

© BEPH 2015 All Rights Reserved

PurvisBobbi44 is the sole author of these poems and if they are seen anywhere else on the Internet or in print it was taken without my consent.

A Country Boy's Dream~Click Link Below:

Sunday, April 26, 2015

Dancing Bright Star Evaded the Lightning Strikes

Love is Fast as an Arrow---Sometimes

A terrified Comanche Maiden traveled fast
in the night,

As thunder roared and snarled----gave warnings 
of a lightning strike.

Her horse whinnied in fear,
The molten heat was very near.

Her long black hair whipping in the torrid breeze,
Black eyes hoping she’d never see him, again--
she prayed—Oh Please!

The storm was coming fast and sure,
The heat of the night was too much
to endure.

Heavy drops of rain fell in rapid force,
Big icy drops plummeted upon the
maiden and her white horse.

Savage Hawk was the Evil Spirit
of all time,
He killed her father--- yes, he committed
that crime.

To claim her as his possession,
He roared with madness –instead
of a confession.

Dancing Bright Star raced on into the
stormy night,
She shivered with cold, as well as fright.

Evil she felt may be far---or a short
time away,
She kept on pushing her horse, until
darkness----turned to day.

A lightning flash showed her a cave
through the pines on a hill,
Her horse needed water—and
she needed her fill.

Slowing----- to the water she led Snowflake,
Stealthfully----- she led her horse through
the shallow lake.

Then into the hidden cave they fled,
She was a strong maiden —it had
been said.

High on a grassy hill---sat a tired cowboy
on his horse----not wanting to roam,
Weary from a day of riding on his range,
his only interest was going home.

Was he curious, yes, to say the least?
But all he wanted was to take his tired
body home for a feast.

But the lovely maiden had captured
his attention,
Her beauty mesmerized him like an
unknown force—maybe she was like ascension?

He could almost swear she was a rising star,
Who had fallen to earth from afar?

With a closer look still, panic was painted
on her face,
He had to help her ---it seemed to be his place.

His Morgan Chestnut was spirited and fast,
Could arrive in a hurry---and would never be last.

The rugged good-looking cowboy pulled his hat
down and rode,
His Morgan barely left tracks —he was in a flying mode.

Behind him he felt someone coming closer,
and closer for the kill,

But his horse was way ahead-----and in minutes t
he cowboy and horse stood on the hill.

From the shadows behind the cowboy----
a tomahawk whizzed by his head,
As Dancing Bright Star’s arrow went
through Savage Hawk’s heart—--he was dead.

Now this story is not mine to finish,
Nor, will time diminish.

The love story of the cowboy and
Dancing Bright Star,
Is still told around the campfires at night,
It is weaved with the silver of the mornings light,

And wrapped with the gold from an Angel wing.
And it is said one can hear the Angels softly sing.

A perfect gift------ is this emotion called love,
Always known and shared with the Angels up above.

Enfolded so gently a couple’s hearts with love,
However--- the long wait for the gift of a baby from above.

No matter if she did not had the labor pain,
Adoption is a chosen love once again.

The priceless bundle of love wrapped in pink or blue,

Never did the parents know before or get the clue.

That little fingers grasped one heart and holds on tight,
Forever and a day babies hold----with all their might.

One’s heart was not prepared for such joy,
Be it a little dainty girl or a strong little boy.

But the gift of a life time was given here,
Parents, Grandparents all will give a cheer.

When love is covered in a warm baby quilt,

We learn this is how the home of love is built.

© BEPH 2015 All Rights Reserved

PurvisBobbi44 is the sole author of this article and if it is seen anywhere else on

the Internet or in print it was taken without written consent and is strictly prohibited. 

Friday, April 10, 2015

Comanche Cowboy Lover

The white foam peaked and danced, as the rampant

river barreled through the pass,

She rode her black stallion Diamond, by the water’s

edge, to meet her comanche cowboy---she was his sweet lass.

Stealthfully, she rode in the twilight, as the scary

shadows leaped and fell across her face,

Her blue eyes sparkled with anticipation of who was

waiting at their secret place.

She had known him all her life; as he owned the ranch 
next to her Dad,

But their situation was appallingly sad,


Because he was a Comanche, and she was a paleface,

And their old fashion parents did not believe in mixing
their race.

But love knew no color, race, religion or creed,

Why were people so out of touch, they knew nothing of their need.

She smelled the smoke from the campfire, before she saw the light,

And then she was there in their place, and it felt so truly right.

His dark eyes never leaving her face, as he walked toward her horse,

His strong hands surrounded her tiny waist and lifted her slowly, and
stood her before him---very gently of course.

His black eyes sparkled in the moonlight, as it streamed upon them
standing in their secret place,

His strong muscular arms gently pulled her near, and his strong fingers
untied her hat’s lace.

Her long blonde hair fell in curls down her back, past her waist, then his
fingers lovingly combed through her silky hair,

Her need was growing stronger, as her eyes made love to his face, without
a care.

Her thirsty lips wanted the sweet nectar from his passionate kiss,

hurry she thought—it is your duty,

But yet he lingered, as his eyes dined on her beauty.

Skillfully, his hands softly held her hot face, as he slowly lowered

his craving mouth to seize her swollen quivering lips---- to make

them part,

She almost fainted as their passionate kiss climbed the summit

of her heart,

Their love soared into orbit, up through the stars that glimmered

over his ancestors, and all the great Comanche Chiefs,

Their stolen moments together were all they could steal,

it wasn’t fair, the hurt was unreal, and they felt so much grief.

But their love could go no further, until they were wed,

He would not shame her name, he had rather be dead.

Her tears flowed--- making inroads down her warm cheeks,

--- as her eyes begged him not to make her leave,

He turned his back on her, after he put her on Diamond’s back,

because his eyes glistened in the shadows, and she should go,

so he could grieve.

Eons later, two half white and half Comanche children were walking

through their parent's ranch and found a tree,

Where someone had carved the words—Comanche Love Never Dies—

it lives within me.

They looked at each other and smiled, because they knew their

Papa wrote this for their Mother,

Because he always said there would be no other.

His Comanche Love was still strong and alive for his paleface wife,

They had proof of this as they added children to their life.

Love knows no color, no race, no country, no time and space,

He still felt his 80 year old heart race, when he saw her sweet face.

Her blond hair shimmered with streaks of white,

As the moonlight dance and flickered through their trees at night.

Upon their horses they still rode, slowly now without a prance,

Their grandchildren slowly following behind on horses that wanted

to dance.

His black hair was mostly white,

But she still came to him every night.

Her hand she placed lovely on his face,

This was their time and their place.

When from this earth they would one day depart,

This Comanche Lover and his Paleface wife would

never be apart.

© BEPH 2015 All Rights Reserved

 PurvisBobbi44 is the sole author of this article and if it is seen anywhere else on the

Internet or in print it was taken without my consent and is strictly prohibited.
A Country Boy's Dream---Click the Link Below:

Monday, April 6, 2015

An Angelic Heart

Grand-Papa's Angel
She stood holding her Grand-Papa’s
hand as the essence of innocent
sweetness pivoted around her like
falling morning dew,
Her Angelic face was enhanced with
her eyes of baby blue.
It was early, but the line was long, as the first
risers, rushed to stand in line,
The warmth of the morning sunlight felt fine.
“Grand-Papa when will it be our turn?” she asked,
 “Are you hungry child? It will not be long.”
Then in her five year old voice she quietly started 
singing her favorite song, “ Amazing Grace” with a
 vocal sound so youthfully strong.
“Grand-Papa are more children hungry in our America, 
besides my friend in kindergarten named Erica?”

“Yes, my Sweet Pea, I am sure many more little 
children who will be hungry today.” He replied in a soft voice.
“And being in line today was our choice.”

“We are next Grand-Papa, I cannot wait.”
When it was their turn she smiled her brightest smile--- 
with her hands reaching out out she did not hesitate.

“Please Mister, take my Piggy-Bank--- Mr. Piggy has 
$100.00 in his tummy, and this bag has all I got for my 
birthday--- its full of toys,
To help feed all America’s little girls and boys.”

The man and woman at the table looked at the little 
Angel before them holding her bank in her
tiny hands,
With both their eyes brimming they accepted her gift 
for all the America’s hungry children across our lands.
“Now Grand-Papa, can we sell some more of my toys---
to help my friend Erica?”
“And Daddy said he would donate some of his tools for 
all the hungry children in America.”

Her Grand-Papa looked up at the sky and said a silent 
prayer to thank his God for his grandchild,
Then he kissed her little hand and gave her a big smile.

No this is not the end,
But only where we say "Amen."
She stood on the hard frozen ground,
Her world had turned upside-down.

She was 18 years old now, holding her
father’s hand,
His strength she needed staring at the
hole in the land.

Her precious Grand-Papa was being
buried today,
Tears inundated her beautiful face---
left nothing to say.

Selfishly-she wanted him back because
she loved him so,
But the pain he suffered---he was ready
to go.

All the sweet memories swam in her flooded
He was her King---his heart was kind.

Feelings dashed between her mind and
Remembering---Grand-Papa said they would
never really be apart.

Spirits often visit the ones they love on earth,
Their spirit world is their rebirth.

She would always visit his grave with flowers,
And, sit and talk to him for hours.

Their bond would never be broken,
She carried his love within her heart as their

Now with her father at her side---she said her
goodbyes for now,
Until she returned for Christmas---I will visit you
first---was her silent vow.

Walking away and leaving her Grand-Papa behind,
Pulled on her heart and played on her mind.

Suddenly---she heard his words loudly as if he
were there,
When you feel lonely my Darling---just sit in
my favorite chair.

My warmth and love will surround you,
So smile for me Darling---never be blue.
© BEPH 2015 All Rights Reserved 
PurvisBobbi44 is the sole author of these poems and if they are seen anywhere else on the Internet or in print it was taken without my consent