A BOOK of poetry which sits on the bedside tables of his family is how the memory of Ron Boorsma is kept alive.
The Jimoomba man and avid writer, who would have turned 40-years-old last Monday, passed away two years ago from skin cancer.
While his body is gone, his spirit has been commemorated in a 93 page publication which was released last week and is now on sale for $20.
The book, My Journey, My Words, was put together by his wife Trish Boorsma and mother Alarna Bell and contains about 50 poems and two letters penned by Mr Boorsma throughout his life.
Mrs Boorsma said the project was an important step in celebrating her husband’s life.
“It was about fulfilling his dreams and we wanted to get (it done) after he died,” she said.
But compiling the collection was an emotionally taxing process for the duo – Mrs Boorsma said she did not realise how many poems her husband had written and found many of them on his computer after his death.
Mr Boorsma began writing poetry at the age of 10 after his father Koos died from brain cancer. His poem, The Spirit Lives On, which he wrote as a child, has been included.
Also in the anthology is A Clown or A Fool. The piece was first published in the International Library of Poetry’s The Liquid Mirror when Mr Boorsma was 21-years-old.
Mrs Bell said she hoped the book not only showcased her son’s wordsmith talents, but also reminded readers about the importance of regular skin checks.
She said her son believed a small spec on the sole of his foot was a birthmark, which he did not get checked until it was too late.
By the time the stage four melanoma was diagnosed, malignant cells had spread into his lymphatic system and elsewhere throughout his body.
While Mr Boorsma underwent radiation therapy after the removal of his lymph nodes and parts of his foot, secondary cancer later appeared.
Mrs Bell said she hoped her son’s friends and those who knew him would buy copies of My Journey, My Words. Visit inhousepublishing.com.au.
A CLOWN OR A FOOL
Written by Ron Boorsma
He’s devoted his life to making everyone laugh
And making the world a better place
But at the end of the day when he’s finished his craft
He goes home and wipes the smile off his face
And under the make-up lies an unhappy man
In the battle of life he’s been struggling
It’s sad but he’s doing the only thing he can
By making things vanish and juggling
Throughout the day he please himself by making
Children yell and laugh with delight
But they don’t see through the wide smile he is faking
To view the pain he feels every night
He may laugh on and smile on the outside but
That smile is only skin deep
But see into the ruins of this man’s heart
He loses hope each time he weeps
He magically breaks things and fixes their aches
It’s all part of the play
But now he knows that when your heart breaks
That’s usually how its stays.
