Jean Franse Farwell, Texas

A biography of Jean Franse must include her Indian and Scottish-Irish heritage. Born in Oklahoma on January 24,1932, she began life in a place called Cache Creek bottom and grew up hearing stories of her ancestors. Her occupations include genealogy research, working on a doctorate, teaching school, and bookkeeping at a family business. Three sons and ten grandchildren are the focus of her life. Writing poetry became an expression of hopes and dreams and sometimes, closure for a sad situation. She encourages the writing and reading of poetry in her high school English classes and has seen of her student's poems published.

TRANSFORMATION I'm like a clod of earth which cowers beneath a threatening sky; afraid that when the rain comes down I'll melt away and die. I need his strength inside of me a rock that cannot move; a strength that's anchored in his love and waits for storms to prove My mother, Earth, calls me to be far less than what he said; to melt into the ground with all who chose this world instead. But deep inside of me there cries a voice which will not die. It gives me hope that I can stand and reasons I must try. The hope to be, the strength to stand, the joy I know he brings will turn this fear to tears of life til rock-hard center's seen. And when this earth is washed away in floods I know I know will come. I'll stand alone and shining still, a diamond in the Sun.

TREASURE You cannot give me what I want, nor grant me my desire. You can't be perfect as a man and that's what I require. No one can give me what I have; all else I will refuse For once I gave what I can't keep for that which I can't lose.

The Quest In youth I dreamed of Camelot and knew my life would be a search for just one hero who would come and rescue me. A knight in shining armor, a man of chivalry whose lifelong quest would be a find a princess to set free. But now in age I look around and Camelot is gone; no most and castle standing her and I am still alone. And I remain a prisoner of unfulfilled desire, still hoping for someone to light the unextinguished fire. I look to the horizon; a setting sun I see, but out there, riding on the wind, a knight approaching me. He's moving fast to cross the moat to scale the wall's debris, a knight in tarnished armor. He's finally found me.

All poems Copyright © 1997 Jean Franse. All rights reserved.